


Victims of the Night

by hannigramcracker



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Amputation, Gore, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Vomiting, those are the big ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: Rhett and Link go out one night in college for what should have been an evening of drinking and good times. But by the end of the night, they are both changed in more ways than they could ever have imagined. Some change is more permanent than others."She took my arm, I don't know how it happened."





	1. Bound

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be real with you here. I have never written something like this by myself before. I've co-authored long fics, but I've never done something like this. I've been working on it since April, and I've had the idea in my head for years. 
> 
> I'm delighted to share this with our boys - and with you, dear reader. Buckle up.

They stood, ankle deep in cool rushing water, sunshine on their backs. The river was flat, long and shallow, and the trees on either side were lush and green. They mirrored each other, standing with their hands open against their sides. Something was happening, a spark had been ignited and the smell of it’s gunpowder hung heavy in the air. The taller boy’s shadow hung over the shorter boy’s shoulders, casting his face into shade. 

“We gonna do this or not?” he asked, shaking some of his black hair out of an eye. 

The taller wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts, sweat smearing the fabric. “Yeah, unless you don’t wanna.” 

“O-okay. Uh. You go first.” the dark haired boy muttered, nodding at him. The taller took that direction, and a deep breath, before slicing a pocket knife into the soft flesh of his palm. He hissed, winced - then handed the knife over to the other boy immediately. 

He took it quickly, hands shaking so hard he almost dropped it into the water. 

“C’mon! You gotta do it before I stop bleedin’. I ain’t cutting myself again.” 

Hastily, the shorter boy dragged the blade across his hand, catching the middle just off center. His gasp was cut off by a noise of surprise when the other boy grabbed his hand and held.  _ Hard.  _

Warm red blood coated and stuck between their palms, just enough to make it feel wet with something other than sweat. Their hands stayed glued together for a long moment, gazes caught in each other’s eyes. They’d each never seen the other look so serious before. 

_ “I swear, I’d die for you.”  _


	2. Chemical, physical kryptonite

Rhett and Link sat at the desks in their apartment, backs to each other. It was a Friday night, and Rhett was fisting his hands in his hair, trying to study for his exams. There were so many words and things to remember, he just needed to make sure he soaked it  _ all  _ in. He could hear Link fidgeting behind him: scooching his chair to the left and right, tapping his pen against the side of the desk gently. It was nothing that would annoy most people, but it let Rhett know that their “study session” was about to be over. Link was going to try to convince him to go out. This happened every Friday night. And Link usually did end up convincing him to go, and Rhett  _ usually  _ had a good time - so it wasn’t all bad. But tonight? Tonight something in his gut was telling him to  _ stay home  _ almost as loud as it was growling for dinner. 

Rhett glanced up at the flyer Link had pinned to the wall above his desk earlier that week. It screamed about a new club, a place with a new dj, and Rhett didn’t  _ want  _ to go. 

Rhett realized he had stopped paying attention and was just staring hard at his notebook only when Link started to speak. 

“I’m sicka this, brother. It’s Friday!”  _ Fri-dee.  _ Link’s accent wasn’t going away the same way Rhett’s was, and Rhett thought it was endearing. “I wanna go do somethin’.”

Rhett spun on his chair to see Link already sitting backwards, hanging his arms over the back of the chair. “Wanna get lost?” 

“No, I wanna  _ do  _ something.” 

Rhett knew that. Link wanted to spend some time with the  _ other  _ people in their social circle. Which was entirely fine and normal and didn’t make Rhett’s veins spike with a confusing burst of jealousy. He didn’t want to spend his Friday night in a dark car on a dark highway with the person he saw day in and day out. 

“There’s that new club openin’.” Link said, and shrugged. “We could try that. Buncha people are going.” 

The next breath Rhett took felt like it caught in his throat and hung on. Something cold slithered into his veins. He  _ really  _ didn’t want to go. Was he getting sick? What was the slick feeling in gut about? “I dunno, Link… We don’t wanna try somethin’ out the night it opens. Wait for them to perfect their craft first.” 

Link looked like he was about to consider Rhett’s suggestion and Rhett almost breathed a sigh of relief. But then he shook his head. “I hear they’re gonna play some good tunes. I wanna  _ dance,  _ brother.” 

To punctuate this, Link stood up from the chair and put one foot up on it. He bit his lip and thrust his hips into the air in rhythm to music only he could hear. He dropped his foot back down, Rhett staring at him with the inside of his lip caught between his teeth. He opened his arms and shimmied his shoulders the few steps it took to get to Rhett, giggling the whole way. “My hips wanna groove, man. I can’t stop ‘em.” 

_ Don’t.  _ Rhett swallowed down the thought and started laughing himself. He threw his head back, eyes clenched shut, gasping laughter that didn’t exactly match the situation. It was diffusing something inside of Rhett though, and that was enough. Link followed his lead, guffawing into the air and dancing his way even closer to Rhett. He nearly climbed into Rhett’s lap for one breathless moment. Rhett froze and Link backed up, still laughing, his shoulders hung loose. 

“Can we go, brother?” Link asked, a little breathless. 

“Yeah, we can go.” Rhett said, even though he swore his pulse picked up when he agreed. 

But Link clapped his hands a little, an action that made Rhett’s ears feel hot, and he danced into the bedroom. Rhett didn’t have time to think about  _ why  _ his neck was heating up as well. Instead, he got up to go into the bathroom before Link could decide to take one of his weird showers. Rhett was smirking. Weird meant  _ cute  _ and Rhett hated that he thought that. He knew Link was taking off his staying in shirt and picking through one of his several going out shirts to decide which one he deemed clubbable. Rhett washed his hands and splashed some water onto his face to distract himself from the thought of seeing a pale stripe of Link’s flesh as he lifted his shirt up from his shoulders. 

If they were going out, he needed to get changed too. So he wrapped up in the bathroom and walked back into their shared bedroom. It wasn’t big, as most student housing apartments weren’t. But it was enough. Rhett never minded the closeness, even if he pretended to get annoyed with Link. Link was sitting on the side of his bed and thumbing through a magazine. So much for getting ready. 

Rhett shook his head and went to his own closet, picking out the first shirt he saw and not really caring what it was. He had a red and black plaid shirt in his hand and that was perfect. 

“You ready to go?” Link asked, not looking up from his magazine. 

“Guess.” Rhett said. There was still something hanging deep inside him telling him to make up an excuse not to go, to stay home just a little bit longer. “Maybe we should do some shots first? What if drinks are overpriced?” 

Link considered Rhett’s suggestion for a moment that was almost comically too long before he nodded his head and hopped up from sitting to standing on his bed in one smooth yet clumsy and limb tangling movement. He reached to the shelf above his bed and moved a few textbooks out of the way revealing a halfway empty bottle of amber whiskey and two empty shot glasses stacked on top of each other. They were old enough to drink - barely  _ just  _ \- but it felt right to keep this bottle separate from the rest. This was one they’d gotten last time they’d been back to Buies Creek together. 

Then, they drank it in Rhett’s childhood bedroom, challenging each other to shot after shot until Link was almost naked and draped over Rhett in an extremely  _ charged  _ way. They had kissed that night, for the first time. And then hadn’t talked about it. At least not without that bottle between them. 

Rhett watched Link pour two generous shots which they knocked against each other and then downed in one practiced swallow. Link scooped up Rhett’s glass and started filling it again before the burn had even gone from his throat. He took it back from Link, exhaling quickly before downing it as well. Usually they stopped at two. Third and fourth shot was when things started blurring, heating. 

Rhett swallowed again, throat dry in the wake of the whiskey’s burn. He shook his head, his agoraphobic streak still nagging at him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the anxious tension that had settled there. 

“You alright, brother?” Link asked. 

And while the shots didn’t help with his apprehension, they did help with his honesty. “I don’t know, man. I got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this new place.” 

Link frowned, something in his face going a little soft. He looked at Rhett for a long moment before talking again. “I’m usually the one worrying about stuff like that. It’s gonna be fine! The worst that could happen is shitty bar food.” 

“You know I have nightmares about bad chicken wings.” Rhett answered, some of his fear dissipating with Link’s crack. Still…

“Trust me, bo. Just have another shot an’ then we’ll get outta here.” 

And Rhett  _ did  _ want to trust Link, so he didn’t stop him from pouring a third shot. He took it with ease and only a third of a gag before he stood up to get his shoes on. They weren’t staying home, and there was no use prolonging it anymore. Might as well go while the whiskey was still whispering strong. 


	3. Helpless to the Bass

The cab drove away behind them and left Rhett and Link standing on an empty sidewalk outside of a big industrial looking building. The street was empty, almost silent, with a few of the streetlights not exactly as bright as they should have been. Most of the windows of the building were dark, except a block of about twenty near an open doorway a few feet away. Loud bassy music was pouring from the door along with the flashing of colored lights. There was a sign above the door, a banner that read  _ Grand Opening! Welcome to Bartzabel. Tonight only: DJ H.One!  _

Link nudged Rhett in the shoulder. “It’s this way.” 

Rhett followed him, feet feeling slightly bigger than usual, harder to control. The rapid drinking earlier was definitely hitting him, but that was alright. Maybe it would help him enjoy the night anyway.

Rhett’s gaze caught on a tiny phone booth as they walked toward the entrance to the club. It looked like it was falling apart; it was almost comical how much it seemed like some kind of last lifeline in one of those horror movies where everyone dies anyway... 

Rhett barked a little laugh and nodded to Link to look up the street. “Check it out - remember where that is when we have to call 911 later after we get kidnapped by whatever cult operates in there.” 

Link scoffed and punched Rhett lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, brother! We’re gonna have fun.” 

Rhett watched Link run ahead of him and bounce excitedly in the small line gathering in the doorway. He walked in after Link, who somehow pulled enough money from his pocket to pay the cover for  _ both  _ of them and then dragged Rhett to the bar. He ordered two more shots of whiskey and two glasses of jack and coke before Rhett could stop him. Rhett took the shot only after Link had clanked them both together in his hands and gave it to him. He picked up the mixed drink and sipped at it. 

“Dang it, Neal. You tryna get me drunk?” 

“Drunk already? You  _ are  _ a cheap date.” Link had sucked down almost a third of his drink already. Rhett shook his head, knowing that Link had clearly made a decision that he was going to get drunk tonight. 

Rhett didn’t feel the same. 

“Let’s look for Gregg.” He suggested and Link agreed. 

They tried to scan the perimeter of the club for their friends, but it was difficult to see. There wasn’t much actual light in the place, aside of the colored strobes pulsing from the dancefloor. It was hard to make anyone out in the crowd. The place seemed huge, almost like a black hole with the walls and floors looking the same kind of dusty gray. Rhett couldn’t really tell if there was more space past where the lights hit or not. There were a few tables, not many, and the only things aside of the bar and dj booth were two doors that looked to be bathrooms. 

Bathrooms that would see their fair share of drugs, if Rhett had ever been to a place like this before. It was more rave than club, and he already couldn’t wait for the night to be over. He took another sip of his drink and watched Link look around for the third time. They had settled into two chairs pressed close by a wall. 

“Wanna dance?” Link asked, threw the words over his shoulder to Rhett. 

Rhett’s grip tightened just a bit on his cup. Link wanted to dance with him? Had the whiskey worked that much on him already? There was no way Link was going to get  _ handsy  _ with him on a dance floor in front of all these people, despite how much something in the back of Rhett’s mind wanted him to. Rhett knew he was taking too long to answer, he was making this weird, he was overthinking, and he was definitely drunk - 

“Jesus, brother, calm down. I don’t wanna dance  _ with ya  _ I just wanna dance next to ya. Plus, I think Gregg’s probably out there if he’s anywhere.” Link said, nodding to the dark dance floor. 

Rhett felt his face flush and something cold shoot through his veins. Of course Link wasn’t asking him to dance  _ with  _ him. He took another sip of his drink, made it crawl up the straw, before shaking his head. “Nah, man. You go ahead. I’ll be out when I finish this drink up. I’ll bring you another, too.” 

Link smirked at that and gave Rhett a playful wink that made his glasses get a little crooked. Rhett watched him go and settled back even further into the shadow, sulking slightly. The song switched as soon as Link got to the edge of the group of people dancing, and Rhett watched him pick up the beat of it effortlessly. It was like watching him dance back in their apartment, but the way the lights flashed off his skin in this dark environment made it seem different, in a tantalizing way. Rhett kept his straw slotted between his teeth and lips and took measured sips as he watched Link. 

He slipped in and out of the crowd, looking for their friend but not finding him. Rhett never took his eyes off of him. Link gave up looking after a while and began to enjoy himself, let himself feel the alcohol in his blood through the beat of the music. He swayed his hips, slender and lithe, alone and into no one. Rhett imagined himself standing there, Link grinding his pelvis into his leg. Rhett shook his head and took another deep pull of his drink. It was almost gone. He hadn’t meant to drink it that quickly. But when Link lifted his arms slowly above his head in time with the shimmying of his hips, Rhett’s mouth had gone completely dry. 

Link’s drink rattled in his hand, and Rhett swore he could feel its condensation on his own forehead. He needed to relax, this was ridiculous. Something in his stomach was starting to feel hot and full and he needed to  _ stop  _ thinking about Link like that before something else happened. Rhett knew he was stupid for thinking like  _ that  _ anyway. Link was his best friend, and he wasn’t going to ruin that with whatever confusing things his hormones were making him think. Link would never feel the same way, anyway. 

Rhett finished his drink and the music seemed to surge and get even louder. He couldn’t tell if there were words to the songs or not, but they all sounded familiar in a dampened and yet amplified way. He was thankful that he was sitting in the outskirts, just outside of the glare of the dance floor. Maybe he would be able to stay sat here all night, be able to escape the notice of anyone but Link. And maybe even Link, too. 

But then Rhett felt the energy around him shift, and suddenly a girl from the dance floor was floating over his way. Rhett felt it in his chest when she looked at him, something ignited and smoldered. It wasn’t an entirely positive feeling. Her gaze, even from far away, seemed piercing and intense. It made the hairs on the back of Rhett’s neck stand up. She was cute, a small frame in a black dress with no back. Her sneakers were beat up, stained with something that almost looked red in the dim light. Paint? Maybe she was an art student. She was pale, her eyes big and her hair long and dark. 

Still, Rhett hoped she wasn’t really heading his way. There were so many other people on the dance floor willing to interact with her that he didn’t think she would. But then the song ended, and she was coming in his direction, almost in a bee-line. She moved too quickly for Rhett to get up and slip to the bar before she was right in front of him. 

“Hey, handsome.” Her voice was flat, quiet even over the next song that had begun. “Sick of sittin’ all alone here in the dark?” 

“Oh, I’m not alone. My friend is out there.” Rhett gestured to the floor at large and wondered why he felt like he needed to tell this girl, who was obviously flirting with him, that he wasn’t there alone. 

“Uh-huh.” The girl said. “So why don’t you come out there with me, then?” 

“Well.” Rhett lifted his drink and drank melted ice. “Stranger danger, and all that.” 

The girl in front of him laughed, actually  _ laughed  _ like only Link usually laughed at him. It caught him off guard, and somehow set his teeth on edge. 

“Well, we can get to know each other pretty quick.” 

“I’m really - I’m not  _ looking  _ for anything. Just a few drinks.” Rhett looked past the girl to the dancefloor, trying to catch another glimpse of Link. He wanted to get his attention, get another drink for him, have a reason to end this awkward interaction that he didn’t want to be having. 

Searching for reassurance, instead Rhett saw Link dancing with another girl on the floor. She had somehow wriggled her way in between Link’s arms and they were all but grinding into each other. The girl in front of Rhett moved back into his line of vision. 

“Come on. Just shut up and dance with me.” 

Rhett looked back at her, saw her eyes glimmer with something sincere and thought why not? Maybe if he was lucky, he could make eye contact with Link while they both danced. Maybe he could find a way to reenact the moment from when they had their first kisses together, separately but still in the same room. He decided  _ fuck it  _ and stood up. The girl was much shorter than him, even shorter than  _ Link  _ but she didn’t so much as balk when he stood up. She smiled, a toothy thing full of fire and something sharp and snagging. 

She grabbed Rhett by the hand, his left hand. One of her press-on fingernails slid down a scar on Rhett’s palm. The corner wicked the middle in the most precise way. No one had touched his hand like  _ that  _ aside of himself. Sometimes he’d rub the scar there if he was feeling anxious, uncomfortable, hell he was probably doing it while he was sitting there drinking and didn’t even notice it. He knew Link did the same. It was the scar that tied them together, from that day in the river in the sunshine. A shiver ran down Rhett’s spine and it felt  _ awful.  _ It felt like he wanted to go home and curl up under a blanket, crawl into bed with Link after he thought he was asleep. 

Rhett followed, too numb to try to move his arm from her grasp. She slipped into the dancing crowd and let go of Rhett’s hand, stopping to dance in front of him. She moved in a way that was feminine, but awkward all the same. Her movements were somehow too quick and too slow at the same time. There was something strangely  _ other  _ about her. Rhett couldn’t decide if it was purely because she wasn’t Link, or if it was something else. 

Thinking about Link made Rhett seek him out, eyes gluing on him when he caught sight of him. He was sweating now, warmth from the alcohol and the moving bodies. He was still dancing with the same girl from earlier, they were facing each other and Link was all but rolling his torso down into her, pitching his hips in time with his arm movements. Objectively, he looked silly, but Rhett couldn’t tear his eyes away. A familiar heat gathered back up in his stomach - and it had nothing to do with the girl in front of him, the one dancing and moving her hips in a  _ much  _ more appealing way. Her waist hit against his hip and he almost had to shrink back at the shockwave the touch sent rocketing through him. 

Rhett danced with the girl, trying to mirror her movements enough that she would enjoy herself, but not enough that she would get any further ideas. Somehow, within the next song, Link had also found Rhett. There were a few people in between them, but their eyes stayed locked on each other for a few long moments at a time. Link was smiling, gesturing almost lewdly to the girl dancing in front of him. They both knew he wasn’t going to bring her home, but it was a charade Link always put up, and Rhett let him. Rhett even played along, nodding down to the girl dancing against him. Link gave him a thumbs up and then placed his arms on the girl’s shoulders. 

Rhett looked away from Link, and the girl - god, he didn’t even know her  _ name  _ \- had taken his hand again and was leading him back out of the crowd. 

“I think you need a refill, sweetheart.” 

He was going to protest, going to say he was alright, actually he kind of had to pee. Maybe he could sneak off to the bathroom, take a hit off someone’s joint, and then lose that girl all together. Maybe he’d get another pair of shots and a _ ctually  _ dance with Link. 

But she was gone, and Rhett saw her half-sitting on a stool and leaning against the bar. She held two fingers up and Rhett knew she was getting them both something to drink. He could only hope it was whiskey of some kind. His stomach always turned when he mixed alcohols. He worried his lip a little as he watched the girl get their drinks. The bartender set them down in front of her, and Rhett couldn’t see the glasses anymore.

The tiniest of red flags went off in Rhett’s head. This was a complete stranger getting him a drink, and that was what they warned you about in those stupid classes freshman year. Rhett almost laughed at the thought of  _ him  _ getting drugged by a girl who barely looked old enough to buy drinks herself. She’d need at least a couple pills to put him out. He’d be totally fine. This club really didn’t seem like  _ that kind  _ of place, it wasn’t as sleazy as Rhett had originally thought it would be, but that could have been the alcohol talking. 

Regardless, Rhett accepted the drink from the girl when she brought it to him. He took a sip - and it was another jack and coke. Perfect. His second sip tasted a little more bitter than the first, but he just stirred the ice cubes with his straw and sipped again. He didn’t really want to get up and dance anymore, but he was going to feel obligated to since she had gotten him a drink. 

“You stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back for ya in a while.” She said before slipping back into the dance floor and all but disappearing. 

Rhett wanted to argue, but instead leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his drink. He swallowed twice before taking another gulp. Somehow his tongue felt dry, even though he was sipping on his drink consistently. It wasn’t just from drinking soda and alcohol all night, it was different from that. Rhett placed a hand flat against his thigh, trying to orient himself to the sudden wave of dizziness that clouded over him. 

Maybe he had drank more than he thought. Too many shots? Usually he wasn’t done in this soon. He  _ could  _ usually drink Link under the table. His ears started to buzz and he blinked hard, trying to dispel the blurriness from his vision. Maybe he really did need to get up and go to the bathroom. Just go in and take a moment, come back out and tell Link he wasn’t feeling well. He set his drink down next to his chair before he stood up. For a bright and sharp moment, everything crumbled and became static around Rhett. He thought he might vomit, but his legs gave out first, his body making a loud thump on the dirty floor, muffled under the bass. He closed his eyes, determined he was going to get  _ up,  _ but his limbs wouldn’t move and he couldn’t open his eyes back up and his mind went blank then shrank to the size of a pinprick - 

And Rhett was gone. 


	4. This Woman

The air was heavy, thick and still. It hung damp with moisture, cloying against Rhett’s already too-warm skin. He could feel sweat beading up beneath his hairline and beard, pooling and not running anywhere, sticking against his skin like watered down glue. He felt alarmingly hot, like he was flashed with fever and sitting next to an open flame. He could feel something hard and almost wet beneath and behind him, felt like he was sitting on stone. 

He could  _ feel  _ but he couldn’t  _ see.  _

Rhett’s heart hammered into his throat when he realized that even if he opened his eyes he could see nothing. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone blind before he felt a slight pressure above his eyelids. So, he was blindfolded. In a panic, he tried to lift his arms to his face, but found them bound to his sides by something tight and thick. His breath caught in his throat and a wave of horrifying dizziness washed over him. The panic turned bright white hot, branding him from the inside of his chest out. His world tilted, his stomach followed. The sensation was made even more disorienting because he could not  _ see _ , and though he was sitting on the floor his mind was convinced he was falling from a great height. 

A gag came up from Rhett’s thoat, and it almost surprised him. The bile was acid, burning both his throat and chin when it dribbled from his lips. Rhett had no time to be thankful that he wasn’t gagged with a dirty cloth because more vomit was spilling from his lips. It tasted sour; like curdled whiskey and rancid soda. Rhett tried to lean forward a bit more this time, but only succeeded in spitting a pitiful mouthful into his own lap as it bubbled up out of his nose. He would have burned with shame had another gush of sick not passed his lips with urgency. 

Rhett’s head hung forward, panting, and the blackness in front of his eyes was taken over by the deep darkness from within. 

  
  


_ He was standing, barefoot in the river. The water was cool and refreshing and rushed around his ankles. Link was right beside him, holding his hands out and slightly away from his sides. He looked reverent, head tilted up to the sun. His eyes were closed and his mouth was set in a small contented smile. He seemed at peace.  _

_ But he was bleeding. It ran in a shocking red rivulet down his fingertips. It started near his palm and crisscrossed into several streams that flowed out from his fingers. It poured into the river, the amount of blood growing and growing into an alarming amount, staining the waters bright red.  _

_ Rhett’s eyes followed the stream of crimson, the stream of what he somehow knew was everything that Link  _ was,  _ and really noticed how red the water was. It was red before it even hit Link.  _

_ Fearfully, Rhett looked down at his own body. He saw his tanned legs, somehow bare, covered in running red, almost like the blood on the outside was mapping his veins on the inside. He wondered where all the blood was coming from and lifted his left arm to check it. It rose with the slowness of a dream and was blurred before it came into view. A bright red and angry gash appeared on his forearm, almost nestled in the crook of his elbow, tearing through his skin.  _

_ Link snatched his hand up in his own, gripping it hard, pinching his bones. His palm felt slick with Link’s still running blood. _

_ The slice in his arm didn’t stop, and blood poured from it. Rhett could hear it roaring in his ears, saw it pouring over their joined hands, felt detached from himself. He felt like he was floating down that river, getting farther and farther from Link as the gash on his arm continued to open and sever muscle and bone, the red tide rising and swallowing him whole --  _

The pain in his arm was what jerked Rhett awake. 

It felt like his skin was tearing away from itself as though someone was ripping it, piece by piece. The scream was out of his throat before his eyes even opened. He heard it echo around him, without really registering that it had been  _ him.  _ His eyes flew open, confusion and terrifying otherworldly pain burning bright in his haze. He was met with blackness, familiar and yet disconcerting all the same. His gut reaction was to reach up and rip the blindfold down from his face. He had it bunched down around his nose before his arm was pinned back down next to him. 

Colors filtered dizzyingly, his breath came out in a suffocated puff from his nose. The fabric of the blindfold tickled his top lip but he couldn’t get it down any further. Pressure on the arm he had moved doubled, almost feeling like it would crack his bones. Rhett could distinctly make out the feeling of fingers pressing into his skin, hard enough to break fragile blood vessels beneath it. His next scream was lost beneath the clatter of something being cast to the floor next to him. His eyes trained on it, the first real thing he saw when he came back into consciousness. 

It fizzled into focus and made Rhett gag on the next breath he tried to take. 

A dull-looking hunting knife glinted in the dim and flickering light. The sharp edge was tinted red, splashed a bit on the floor, a thick chunk of skin and hair slapping down next to it. 

His eyes rolled toward the movement in the room without really meaning to. He saw the girl in the black dress from earlier that night - the one who had danced with him and given him a drink - rummaging around in the darkness at the edge of the room. He could almost make out each of the notches in her spine as she was bent over, her feet almost coming up out of her worn in sneakers. 

She had dragged blood - his blood? - across the floor and it blended in with the stains that Rhett had noticed on her shoes in the bar. The same red coated the floor and Rhett barely had time to shout again before a loud buzzing filled the room. 

It stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. The girl was standing and holding something that Rhett’s clouded mind could only register as a big saw. Someone laughed next to him, the sound made the grip on his arm even tighter. Rhett looked up, eyes bulging and neck almost limp. A man sneered down at him, a mottled scar dragging the features of his face downward, quirking up only in his malicious smile. 

The girl got closer and closer and then the roaring started again. Rhett could hear the chains rattling against each other, could smell the exhaust of the machine hanging stagnant in the air, mixing with the bright copper stench of blood. 

The saw revved and quickened and the dark color palette around Rhett swirled, shook, gave way to blissful nothingness just as the blade kissed his skin again, parting his flesh like butter and grinding against bone. 

He thought of Link, he thought of the bedroom in their apartment, he thought of the river.

Quiet rang in Rhett’s ears as he passed back out. 


	5. This is My Last Chance

_ He watched Rhett floating away, lightheadedness permeating as the waters ran red and became thick. Rhett’s body was nearly swallowed by the tide, but his hand and forearm stayed grasped tightly in his hand.  _

_ His whole body was slick with sweat, so thick it felt like the blood that was surrounding him from every angle. His palm against Rhett’s continued to blossom red and his stomach turned before he dropped Rhett’s hand and watched it plunk into the river and follow Rhett quickly downstream.  _

_ He looked down and his entire body was red from head to toe the slice on his palm seared --  _

Link woke up panting, stomach knotting up into his chest, and his left hand burning. He didn’t usually dream about blood, but he didn’t think all of the dizziness was from that. He bolted up, almost tripping on his tangled bed sheet in his rush to get across the room. He clamoured into their tiny bathroom and curled up in front of the toilet. 

He barely had the lid up before he was vomiting, bile spilling from his lips in an arc. It splashed into the toilet bowl, followed by another deeper and sharper heave. Link wished he had shut the door, he knew he wasn’t exactly  _ quiet  _ at times like this, and he didn’t want to wake Rhett up before he woke by himself. Another gag wormed up his throat, sticky and hot and dragging needles up his throat. 

His shoulders shook and he knew he was dehydrated, knew that he had made a mistake. He’s known it when he had given up mixed drinks and started exclusively taking shots. Another heave plumed rusty brown in the water and brought clarity up with it. 

Rhett had  _ left  _ last night, hadn’t he? 

One moment Link had seen him, chatting with a pretty girl, and the next he had been gone. 

_ That  _ was why Link had started hitting the bottle with all his might. He had hoped they would go out, have a few drinks, flirt with each other on the cab ride home, and end the night with a few brazen whiskey-flavored kisses before falling into bed drunk. But instead, Rhett had left with that girl he had been dancing with. 

Link decided that was what happened, that he had just drank so much he’d forgotten the exact moment Rhett had told him he was leaving. There was no doubt in his mind that Rhett had said something to him. He wouldn’t just  _ go _ . He’d just forgotten it the same way the moment the first punch in a fight was thrown could be forgotten. He’d spent the rest of his night chasing after that aching ghost, and the contents of the toilet before him were the consequence. 

He spit into the toilet, coughing a bit before reaching up a trembling hand to flush. He rubbed it over his lips roughly, pressing them into his teeth in an attempt to quell the unease still settled in his gut. He half expected Rhett to step into the room and lay a gentle hand on the knob of his shoulder. He had no idea what time it was, it could have been late in the afternoon. Rhett could have come back by now. 

But the touch didn’t come. And soon Link felt steady enough to get up and rinse his mouth out with tap water. He drank it from the faucet, letting the cool water wet his hair as well. It made him feel a little more awake, wicked away the sticky feeling that still hung around from his dream. He wiped his face with a towel and dragged it up to his hair. He pressed his thumbs into his temples and tried to will the ache in his brain to subside. 

He left the bathroom, still feeling sluggish and out of sync with himself. He knew he would have to eat something in order to feel better, but his stomach lurched again at the sight of Rhett’s empty and unmade bed. It looked exactly like it did when Link had fallen asleep last night, staring at its shape in the darkness. 

Of course Rhett wasn’t there. Link knew he didn’t come home with him. But he had hoped that Rhett had stumbled back home at some point and would grumble at him for being so loud. Link’s pulse rocketed into his temples and he felt the familiar cold fingers of anxiety start to worm their way into his chest. Something wasn’t  _ right.  _

Link walked quickly to their bedroom door, threw it open and looked wildly around their living room/kitchen area. It was small and could have been done in one glance but Link looked over and over. He tried to detect any sign of Rhett, from him laying on Mr. Fly to the shoes he’d worn last night on top of the pile by the door. But there was nothing. He was completely and utterly alone. 

Link tried to calm himself down, who the hell was he to get mad that his best friend had gone out and gotten laid? He should celebrate the event, like a normal brother would. Link grit his teeth at the thought of having to ask for details, of pretending to be listening in rapt attention, showing no trace of jealousy. 

Instead of melting and dissipating, Link’s anxiety flared into anger. He slammed the door and hissed as he retreated back into the bedroom. His palm still stung, he rubbed his fingers against it and felt a slightly raised patch of skin. 

His scar. The one he shared with Rhett. The one that usually brought him peace and calm when he rubbed it. Now, it was kindling on the fire and it took everything in Link’s mind to keep himself from digging his fingernail into it angrily. He opened his hand and looked at his palm, inspecting it to see if there was something stuck in it, trying to find what was responsible for the pain. But there was nothing, just smooth flesh broken only by palm lines and the smooth white crescent. 

He brought his arm back down hard, his palm slapping against his thigh. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to fight back the sob that welled up in his chest but he couldn’t. Something in Link told him this had been his last chance with Rhett. It had been do or die, and Link didn’t do. So, it was time to curl up and die. 

He could afford a few moments of self pity. 

He crossed the room and saw the bottle of whiskey they had left out on Rhett’s desk. Something that sounded like a moan wrenched from Link’s throat, but he would have said it was a growl. He reached out for the bottle, but changed his mind halfway. More alcohol would only make his head spin worse. He grabbed the empty shot glass that had been Rhett’s and threw it against the wall before he could think more clearly about his actions. It shattered, exploded into a hundred pieces, and Link felt a kinship with it. 

Tears fell from his eyes as he looked at the shards of glass. He blinked, and for a flash of a moment he saw himself slicing open his own palm, slashing it to ribbons with the shards of the shot glass, felt the stinging pain even though his hands were open and empty in front of him, fuzzy around the edges without his glasses.

He shook his head to dispel the disorienting thoughts, and flung himself back into his bed and buried his face into his pillows. 


	6. See the Future

The anger had burned itself out by the time Link woke back up, but the embers of anxiety still glowed on stubbornly. Rhett still hadn’t come back, he was sure of that. The clock in the corner proclaimed that it was mid afternoon with its blaring red figures - like blood -. Link swallowed thickly and sat up, feeling more alert than he did last time he had woken. 

It was late. Rhett should have been back by now. 

Something was wrong. 

Link could feel it, stinging deep within his chest and making his stomach ache in a way that had nothing to do with the effects of the alcohol working through his system. He sat up in bed, aware now that he hadn’t bothered to pull the covers up over his body. He shivered slightly, skin feeling a muted chill. He stood up and wormed himself into a worn pair of sweatpants. 

Rhett’s bed was still empty, nothing had changed about its makeup. Link was sure of that. The door to the bathroom was wide open, and both their desks were empty. The door was still shut to the living room, so Link got up to open it. He tiptoed around the broken glass with a hot pang of shame and mirrored his actions from earlier, opening the door to search for Rhett. The room stood mockingly empty. There was no note on the table or stuck to the door to indicate that Rhett had come home and then gone back out again. 

That was all Link wanted to see. Something that said Rhett had been back, was nearby, might have been on the way back with hangover cheeseburgers. All he wanted was to spend the rest of his afternoon, spaced out and feeling slightly miserable, listening to Rhett talk about the night he’d had. He would sit through it, in all of its gut wrenching detail, if it meant that Rhett was home safe. 

Link’s skin crawled with the feeling that he  _ wasn’t.  _ No one stayed this long at a stranger’s house after a night clubbing. Any respectable man would either sneak out before the other person woke up, or hang around for an awkward breakfast before dragging his ass home, and Link had thought Rhett would follow suit.

_ Unless… _

Link imagination was overtaken by the thought of Rhett enjoying himself with the girl who’d taken him home. He could see Rhett in his underwear, the girl in his plaid shirt, hanging off one of her shoulders and nearly draping beneath one of her breasts. He was having a good enough time with her to stay and hang out, to make small talk and chat about things. Things that he’d never get to talk to Link about. He was creating bits of himself  _ without  _ Link and the idea of that hurt more than it should have. 

Link flopped onto the couch, creating a breeze that rustled all the photographs above it. Link sighed, pressed his head back into the cushions and thought about what Rhett would be doing if he were here. Likely, he would still be in his underwear.  _ Pants are confining, man  _ was what he would say. He’d be perched on the arm of the couch, long legs dangling, or folded up on the floor with his guitar in his hand. He’d tune a few strings several times, humming to himself, and Link would watch him dreamily from the couch. He’d be leaned back, watching him in awe of the way his hair shone in the warm light of their room. Rhett would sing to himself, something that was half a familiar Merle song, half original mumblings, fully and wholly  _ beautiful.  _

Link could almost feel the words to Rhett’s songs in his soul. He felt like they were pulling him, tugging against his hangover, holding him tightly by the hand and digging into that  _ scar.  _ Link felt like it wouldn’t stop bothering him until he saw Rhett sitting in front of him again. 

Link was up off the couch like a shot, deciding to get up as quickly as he had taken a seat. There was too much anxious energy running through his veins. He couldn’t sit there in the emptiness anymore. He would go crazy if he did, listening to the creaks and echoes of what he and Rhett  _ could  _ have been doing. Without really thinking, he grabbed his keys and slid his shoes on, no socks. He left the tiny apartment looming huge with its emptiness, and slammed the door behind him. He nearly sprinted to get down the stairs at the end of the hallway. 

He would go to the burger place down the road. He needed to eat something if he was going to be rational about this. There was a tiny singing part of him that held out hope he would run into Rhett. He would see him walking the opposite way down the sidewalk, holding a bag of greasy food and vocally excited to see Link. He would be in line waiting to order, sat in a booth eating some fries before the walk home,  _ anywhere.  _

He reached the small building without seeing Rhett, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the small crowd when he went in. He scanned slightly above the heads of everyone. His heart was back in his throat when Rhett was nowhere to be seen. He swallowed down the suddenly very real urge to vomit again. His eyes flicked in the direction of the bathroom, but he gained control of himself despite the salty sting that air held. 

A touch brought him back to himself - a light punch to his upper arm. It startled him more than it should have, he could feel his teeth on edge. Was it Rhett? The fact that he had to  _ question  _ it should have been his answer. He turned to see Gregg standing slightly behind him, smile wide on his face. 

“Oh.” Link said, before he could stop himself. Gregg didn’t notice, or said nothing if he did. 

“Hey, man! Was wonderin’ if I’d see ya here.” 

“Yeah, got hungry.” 

“The grease will help ya.” Gregg said, slapping Link just a  _ little  _ too hard on his back. “You went pretty hard last night.”

Link made no comment, pretending to stare up at the lit menu he already knew by heart. 

“Rhett stay back? He more hungover than you look?” Gregg asked. Link cringed, the motion felt like it creased his face. 

“Um, no. He hasn’t come back yet.” Link stated. It almost took his breath away to say it aloud and he couldn’t understand why. His scalp prickled and he fought through a shiver. 

“Hey! He stayed the night with that little thing he left with? Dirty man! Good for him!” Gregg said. His tone was jovial, conspiratorial, and Link knew he should have been able to share the sentiment. 

Instead, his stomach groaned and bile splashed the back of his throat. His hand burned, much like his throat as he held back a gag. He lifted his hand to his mouth and pressed hard, half trying to dig one of his own teeth into his scar. He scrambled away from the line of people, from Gregg, who was laughing slightly at Link’s expense. Bile flooded his mouth just before he made it into the bathroom. He swung the door open with his other hand, holding the hot liquid in his mouth, knowing trying to swallow would be his undoing. 

The door slapped shut and he was alone in the bathroom. He clattered into a stall anyway, vomit threatening to bubble up out of his nose if he didn’t release it. He opened his mouth and sick trickled from his open lips into the stagnant toilet water. The sound and sight sent another gag up his throat, a heave following that was so brutal it brought him to his knees. His sweatpants almost stuck to the humid greasy floor as he retched again. 

He spat tepid saliva when his stomach finally relaxed. He was panting, crouched in a terrible position, knowing he would need to wash these sweatpants  _ at least  _ eight times before he felt comfortable wearing them again. His stomach ached, empty and tight, and his scar still whispered thin signals of pain to him. 

Link stood, shaky on his feet, and flushed. He wished he had stayed back in the apartment, wished he was not here in public, wished he didn’t have to go back out and face his friend. Wished beyond anything and everything that Rhett was by his side. Rhett would have been waiting outside the stall, waiting with both a cup of water  _ and  _ a cool cup of sprite for his stomach. He would have met Link with words of comfort, brought him home and tucked him up in bed. 

He left the stall, and the bathroom was still empty. Water dripped from a faucet and it was all Link could hear. He saw himself in the mirror, unshaven and haggard looking, and sipped the water directly from the faucet once again. He was alone, had to grab himself a rough paper towel and drag it along his face. He bit back a sob, he was  _ not  _ going to both vomit and cry in public on the same day. 

Link took a moment to gather himself before he did finally leave the bathroom. Gregg was sitting at a table close to the door and stood up when he saw Link. He handed him a brown bag that was rolled up at the top. 

“Got ya your usual. Get home and get some rest. Hair of the dog, or something.” He said when Link nearly gagged on the whiff of food. He patted Link on the shoulder and sent him on his way. 

Link didn’t know if he was going to eat the cheeseburger and fries in the bag, but breathing in fresh air did make him feel better. At least for a moment. 


	7. You're Holding Back

Link nearly fell into the doorway once he turned the key in the lock. He tossed his keys back in the dish and tried to take a deep breath before he looked around again. The dish was empty otherwise, Rhett’s keys still not there. He waited, hoping against everything around him that Rhett would speak up from within, ask him what he brought back to eat. Rhett would be sad that Link didn’t have anything for him, and Link would feel bad and share his fries. He just wanted to be able to relax, to let out the breath he’d felt like he’d been holding since last night. 

But nothing happened and Link had to turn around and face the empty room eventually. It was as empty as his lungs suddenly felt and he dropped the bag of food. It landed with a muffled plop and Link followed it, sliding down the door. Knees to his chest, the panic he’d been trying to keep at bay washed over him. It caught tight in his chest and reached all the way to snag at his scar. He was dangling, suspended over the steep precipice of a panic attack and the ground was threatening to rush up toward him. 

His  _ need  _ for Rhett was so aching - so empty - it stung like a fresh wound and took what little breath he had left. Rhett was the only one who could talk him down, keep him back from this scary part of himself. With his soft words and rough hands, he always kept Link safe through the too loud and too bright feelings. But now, he was alone. He was going to be left careening out of control, spiraling until he stopped breathing entirely and Rhett would come home to his dead body stinking and blocking up the doorway when he finally did come home. 

The idea was visceral. Link could see it, the flesh just starting to rot off his body, maggots falling from his eyes as he fell sideways when Rhett pushed in the door. 

Link sprang to his feet with an energy that could only have been described as manic. He knew he couldn’t let himself stay here and crumble, and if he didn’t have Rhett to help him through, he had the next best thing. 

The bottle of whiskey that was still sitting on Rhett’s desk, almost empty but full enough. 

Link nearly ran for it, hands and breath both trembling as he unscrewed the cap. He took a long pull from the bottle, relishing the distracting way it stung all the way down his throat and pooled hot in his stomach. It drowned the dread settled there for just a moment. When he pulled the bottle back from his lips, he somehow managed to breathe. He sucked in a breath that burned almost as badly as the whiskey, both in his throat and his lungs. It made the vice on his chest loosen its grip just slightly, enough to make Link want to take another long sip. 

He indulged. 

It helped, only a bit. Everything was starting to get dulled around the edges, foggy. Link sucked in a breath through his nose, just to prove to himself he could. The anxiety was still there, shivering beneath his skin, but it was muted. The tension wanted to leave his shoulders, his mind, but every time it got close, terror would spark itself back into Link’s veins. 

Rhett was gone,  _ still  _ not back. It was approaching late afternoon now, and Link had been sure something was wrong since the morning. He gathered up the bottle, not bothering with the only intact glass that still remained. He also grabbed the phone from the corner of his desk. He guided the cord across the room to Rhett’s bed, and curled up there with his things. 

Maybe if he stared at the phone long enough, he could subconsciously will Rhett to call him and tell him he was okay. Silence stretched moment after moment of the phone  _ not ringing.  _ Even the buzz of the alcohol he’d rapidly consumed was starting to wear off and give way back to chilling panic. 

What if scenarios began to creep in again, and Link picked up the phone from its cradle. He took another sip and listened to the dial tone, deciding if he really should call someone. Maybe Rhett’s mom knew where he was? Link disregarded that idea as soon as it had come. If she  _ hadn’t  _ heard from Rhett he didn’t want to make her nervous because he was having some kind of weird meltdown. 

His fingers were dialing the three most familiar digits he knew, and yet had never called before in his life. His anxiety spiked again, what were they going to ask him? What was he going to  _ say -  _

“911, what’s your emergency?” The voice of the operator was too-calm, had a tinny quality to it over the phone. Link imagined a woman sitting in a well lit room wearing a headset. 

“Um, I think I want to speak with the police? My name is Charles. I, um. I need to report a missing person.” 

Link hated the way his voice sounded, hoped his words weren’t slurring as badly as he felt like they were. 

“One moment.” 

The phone was ringing again. Link wanted to hang up, but knew he was too far in to stop now. Someone picked up after two rings and told him he’d been transferred to the police station. Link repeated himself, hated the feeling in his chest that somehow rose and settled in the back of his neck when he said the words  _ missing person _ again. His hand throbbed in time with the syllables and somehow Link knew this was more than that. 

“And what is your relationship to this person?” 

“He’s my -” Link hesitated. Best friend? That was the obvious answer, but his tongue couldn’t find the words. “Roommate.” 

“And when did you see him last?” 

Link gulped, maybe he had done the right thing, maybe he was going to actually get some help. “Last night. He was wearing a red shirt and-” 

“Son…” The officer on the phone interjected and trailed off. Link felt his blood go cold. 

“No, officer, he never came home. We went out last night and he hasn’t come back.” 

“Twenty hours hardly qualifies as a missing persons case. He’ll come home.” 

“No!” Link was almost gasping again. “This isn’t like him, he wouldn’t just not tell me where he was going.” 

“It’s not uncommon for a young man to strike out for a few days, off the grid. You’d be surprised what roommates decide not to tell each other.” 

“No, he’s not just my roommate...he…” Link trailed off this time. What was he? It was easy to think about, but not so easy to say. Rhett was his best friend, his brother, his comfort and his  _ everything.  _

Rhett was his soulmate. 

Link’s mouth was too dry to talk anymore, he was too stunned by his own revelation. 

“He doesn’t turn up in a few days, you give us another call. Take care.” 

The line disconnected and Link numbly listened to the dial tone again for a moment before slamming the receiver down forcefully. The plastic clattered and he brought it down again and again, a sob falling harsh from his mouth, nearly a wail. 

How could he explain this to anyone? He  _ knew  _ something was wrong, knew that Rhett was in danger, but he couldn’t articulate why. The police wouldn’t take him seriously, but he knew he’d never needed them more in his life. Something was happening here, something life altering. 

Something more life altering than realizing Rhett was his soulmate. 

Something more damaging. 

Link lifted the bottle back to his lips. The liquid sloshed hard, only a few swallows were left. Link curled tightly into himself, pulling Rhett’s blanket down over his shoulders. It smelled so much like him that Link almost crawled out. It was almost too painful. But instead of getting up, he took another long sip and settled further in. The tears streaming down his cheeks felt as warm and harsh as the alcohol on his mouth. 

**

Link dreamed of Rhett. 

Even asleep, his thoughts were consumed with the other man. He couldn’t do anything about it. He dreamed of Rhett’s face in the sun, of him leading Link through a tobacco field by the hand. He was smiling, laughing, warm. Link could nearly  _ smell  _ him and it was perfection. His palm was soft, his fingertips rough where they wrapped around Link’s hand. The gentle pressure was wonderful, reassuring, and Link melted into it. He allowed Rhett to guide him through the field, he was squinting in the sun and couldn’t see very well anyway. 

Until. 

The sun went out like a match, flickering away into suffocating nothingness. 

The only thing Link could see was Rhett, still tugging against his hand. Rhett’s grip was tighter, almost too tight, but Link couldn’t bring himself to let go. He held just as tightly as Rhetts, standing still and trying to keep them both anchored, trying to keep Rhett from running off even further into the darkness. Rhett pulled and pulled and  _ pulled.  _ A sharp yank had Link nearly digging his heels into the soft dirt below him. He couldn’t let go of Rhett. Link was sure he would float off and never come back. The pang of terror that pierced through Link at the thought was nauseating. Rhett was still insistent, trying to pull himself away, trying to bring Link with him. Somewhere deep inside, Link  _ wanted  _ to follow, but knew he shouldn’t.

All at once, Rhett stopped tugging and looked back at Link. His eyes seemed to slice right through him, stare intense and impaling. Link opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Rhett yanked on his arm again and the skin on his forearm burst. Link’s mouth hung open as he watched a jagged line scrape itself across Rhett’s arm in the same place as his dream before. Link still held tight to Rhett’s hand, if not even tighter now, their scars pressed together with heat radiating between them. Rhett never removed his stare from Link, maintaining eye contact even as he tugged at his arm again. He pulled and ripped from every different angle, Link’s arm followed like a ragdoll from where they were connected. 

Skin had separated completely, leaving white bone bare and gleaming. There was no blood this time, it had all been spilled in the river from the last dream. Flesh hung, flapping in hunks from the tearing wound, the sound renting the air. Link’s eyes were wide, tears falling unchecked, when Rhett finally succeeded in tearing the rest of his body away. The bone creaked at first, then popped and cracked in an impossible way as it shattered just below the elbow. 

Link cried out, still clutching Rhett’s hand, disembodied forearm jutting. Link was trembling, and Rhett was taking steps backward, no longer bound by his hand in Link’s. He never dropped eye contact with Link, even as he froze in the shadow that encased them both. 

It started from the bottom up, his feet were first to go and the rest of his body followed, slowly disintegrating. The wind picked up and carried the chalk-like remnants of Rhett away, and Link could do nothing but watch. His eyes dulled and blew away last, the arm still clutched in Link’s grasp feeling alarmingly solid before it crumbled to dust as well. 

Link looked down at it, it filtered between his fingers into a pile on the ground like ash. When Link looked up, Rhett was completely gone, taken by the wind. He was looking at the empty warehouse where the club they had gone to was…

And his palm fucking  _ burned.  _

It was the sharp pain that brought Link back into the world, stinging through the scar in his palm like he was being stabbed. 

He woke with a gasp, clutching his left hand in the other. He rubbed his thumb over the scar and it only stung more. Link retracted with a hiss, wondering  _ why  _ this was happening. He was still under Rhett’s blanket, enveloped completely by the smell of him. The warmth was pleasant, but almost suffocating and another bright hot strike of pain laced through Link’s forearm, originating from his scar. It made him want to get up, to claw his way out of bed, to get out there and find Rhett for himself since the cops weren’t going to help. 

So, that was what he did. He threw the blanket from over his head, almost instantly shivering in the chill of the room.  _ Still empty. _

Link swore he could feel that emptiness deep within him, settling into his very bones. Unbidden, unwelcome, the very visceral crack of Rhett’s arm in the dream resounded in Link’s ears. He jumped, cringing and knocking the blanket entirely from the bed. Link shivered in the darkness, eyes cast toward the clock in an attempt to ground himself just a bit. It was nearly midnight, and he had spent the last few hours curled up around an empty bottle of whiskey. He was asleep, safe and warm in Rhett’s bed, while its owner was somewhere out there… 

Somewhere Link didn’t even want to think of. 

The image of the club from his dream filtered in again. He thought about it for a moment, rehashing the events of the night in his mind detail by detail, the stinging in his hand growing the longer he dwelled. He could almost feel Rhett tugging on his hand. It felt like he was trying to lead Link out of their bedroom, out of the apartment, just  _ out.  _

And Link followed. 

He barely thought about putting his shoes, coat, or hat on. He just did it, all on autopilot. He was too focused on trying to decipher the message the awful burning in his palm was no doubt trying to give him. Somehow, now that he was more awake, he had no doubt it had something to do with Rhett. That  _ was _ how they were connected after all, the one thing that no one could take away from them. 

Link ran his finger over the scar again, and was rewarded with a bright and biting sting. It could have been the alcohol still running its course through his veins, but suddenly he was absolutely sure of where he needed to go. He almost felt like kicking himself for not realizing it sooner. 

_ The club.  _

His scar pulsed, almost in affirmation, and Link slammed the door shut much louder than he should have. 

*

*

*


	8. Teenage Dream

Rhett floated. 

He was fading in and out, coming to for brief moments and slipping away almost as quickly. The only constant was pain. Sometimes it was bright and hot, other times aching and dull, but it was always there. Rhett tried to open his eyes every time he came back into awareness, but it was hard. His eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each, and Rhett didn’t have the strength to get them open. 

The hours seemed to stretch out into eternity, Rhett had no concept of how long he had been sitting, suspended somewhere between nightmarish reality and distorted fiction. Snatches of blurry things came and went each time he awoke. 

Two people hovered over him, looking at him with rapt attention and something deeper and darker in their gaze. 

The walls around them were dark and wet with something that couldn’t have only been water. Mold grew and stank in the damp air, Rhett’s head lolled and his eyes rolled and he could see the ceiling, obscured in shadow and dripping. 

Rusty hooks hung from the ceiling, slabs of decaying and rotting flesh hung from them. Rhett looked without really seeing, drool slipping from his lips. The people were back now, the man holding Rhett down by one of his shoulders. The girl was next to him, held her face so close to his that for a moment Rhett thought she might lean over and kiss him. Lean over she did, but instead of pressing her lips to his temple she reached lower. Something that was somehow both cold and hot pierced into his arm. 

Into a part of his arm that felt soft and vulnerable and  _ wrong  _ like he shouldn’t have been able to feel something  _ there.  _ It was somehow on the inside of his arm, within his very bones. The piercing prick of pain started to move up his arm slowly, dragging something with it. The motion went back and forth, slicing into his arm over and over again, pulling what felt like the ends of his skin tight around his bones. 

It didn’t make sense. 

Rhett had no idea what was going on, or when he was going to wake up from this prolonged alcohol-induced nightmare, but he hoped it was going to be soon. 

Rhett dragged his gaze from the girl crouched next to him, slow as a glacier carving its path. He felt a dim flare of concern at just how much  _ blood  _ there was around - on her face, her hands, the floor, the shining needle and thick thread glimmering in her hand. His eyes caught on the meat hooks that were situated into the ceiling on the far end of the room. 

A few of the hunks of flesh seemed to turn with a breeze that didn’t exist. Rhett stared, eyes dry and rolling around in his skull. They moved like windchimes, and Rhett could almost hear the wooden tinkle of the chimes that Link had on his porch when they were young. 

The thought of Link, oh, the thought of Link was painful. 

The thought of him was surrounded in bright sunlight, shrouded him like a too-bright halo, made Rhett want to shield his eyes. Link looked up at him, always  _ up,  _ and a sly smile spread across his lips. 

He couldn’t lift his arms. 

Instead, he closed his eyelids tight against Link’s smiling face, its outline imprinted into the red darkness. 

When he opened them again, the sunlight was gone and his eyes could barely adjust back to the cool darkness. Shapes danced in front of him and left him staring again at the hooks near the ceiling, hanging as if they had grown in over the years and the things suspended from them their putrid fruit. The chain of one hook rattled, moved and spun, a face coming into view on one of the paler chunks. 

It was Link. The same searching eyes and small smile. The look he had right before he was about to suggest doing something exhilaratingly stupid. Something that Rhett always would have said yes to without hesitation. This Link, this  _ chunk  _ of Link, looked down on Rhett, eerie and lolling, the smile casting a strange light to his features from the unnatural angle. When Link opened his mouth, Rhett still expected to hear a wild idea, but nothing but gunk and maggots spilled forth, crawling down his chin in a phantasm of vomit. 

Rhett looked away sharply, his eyes dragging back to his fingertips in his lap. Something tugged hard against the inner side of Rhett’s arm but he couldn’t drag his eyes there. They stayed focused on his hands, one looking distinctly paler than the other. Before he could try to move his fingertips, someone whispered they were done and a hollow slap reverberated in the base of his neck. 

Pain filtered in as his eyelids fluttered shut, body lax and limp. 

He didn’t want to close his eyes. He tried to fight against gravity, he wanted to lift his head. He wanted to watch as these two people left the room, try to listen to the direction their footsteps went so he could plan an escape, but it was useless. His brain took too long to filter things into some shambled version of sense, by the time he was comprehending them he felt he was a million miles away. 

He blinked, long and deep.

Did he fall asleep? 

His arm felt stiff and heavy and caked together. Something stank horribly of rancid meat, but before Rhett could gag he saw a shadow enter the room. Braced for something awful again, his heart shot into his throat when Link came in to view. 

He looked wired, stringy, Rhett could almost see him trembling. He bent forward, the movement jerking his whole body and sending something to the floor. Rhett’s ears rushed too loudly to hear. Then, Link was right in front of him. Different from the figment earlier, but still somehow the same. He had been seeing Link through all of this, hoping against everything that somehow his best friend would find him. 

He reached out, knowing that the moment he made contact the mirage would disappear and Link would crumble and vanish like the ashes of burnt up wood. Still, he reached, extending his arm forward and receiving nothing but a sharp, stabbing, bone deep pain shooting up his arm. 

He glimpsed his hand as it touched Link, knew he was a figment, there to torture him, because he couldn’t feel the touch he could so clearly  _ see. _

Rhett’s vision pinpointed on the touch and faded into black again, his own fingertips the last thing he saw before passing out. His final distorted thought hovered on  _ why  _ his fingers looked so bloated and gray. He blamed the cracked and too-long fingernails on gruesome mind tricks before his consciousness disappeared in full. 


	9. I Knew We Were

Link stepped out of the cab, the scene almost too similar to the night before. This time, there were no people bustling about outside, nobody asking strangers to share lighters while they waited to go inside. The cab driving away was the only sound and it echoed off the expansive building. It seemed like the club was closed for the night. Strange, since it was a Saturday. 

The neon lights hung unilluminated, looking almost like were written in a foreign language. Link struggled to decipher what they said when the tubes just looped in darkness. He tore his eyes away, wouldn’t allow himself to get caught up like that. 

His gaze settled instead upon the one window that was lit up. It was in an opposite corner from the entrance to the club, and the light inside burned bright orange. Link crept toward it, the pull strong like he was a moth gravitating to a burning flame. The light held promise, held answers - but Link knew it also held suffering and pain. While he wasn’t entirely sure it was worth the risk, his feet wouldn’t stop moving in its direction, one in front of the other and crunching in the dry grass almost on their own. Soon, he was pressing his ear against the closest door he could find, rattling the handle gently and quietly as he could. 

It creaked open. 

Link froze as the creak echoed down the hallway, high and ringing. But nothing happened. The hairs on the back of his calves stood on end but no one came surging from the dark hallway, no one pressed an angry face against the glass to look out the window. Link let out a shallow breath, trying to take a moment to center himself. 

Rhett was in here. Somehow, somehow he knew that. The scar on his hand still throbbed in time with the rapid thumping of his heart. The last thing he wanted was to go down this dark hallway, to find his way into that lit room and confront whatever was there, especially on his own,  _ especially  _ without Rhett. Cold filled his chest at the realization that if he didn’t  _ do this  _ he may never do anything with Rhett again. 

Link took a deep breath, the deepest breath he had been able to take all day, and stepped into the hallway. The first few steps were slow and timid, but as he got walking, he was almost able to convince himself whatever he found wasn’t going to be that bad. 

Maybe Rhett had just gotten sick, tried to find the bathroom, and gotten a little lost. Sure, it would suck that he had been here passed out for the past dozen or so hours, but it wouldn’t be that damaging. Maybe he had just fallen asleep, and then been too hungover to find his way out of the winding warehouse hallways. Maybe he had tried and gotten lost. Or  _ maybe  _ he’d gotten scared and started running, lost his footing and fell and twisted his ankle. Maybe he’d hit his head on one of the corners of the stone walls. Maybe he was bleeding from his temple and Link was too late - 

Link realized he was running, panting, short of breath. He tried to calm down, tried his best to anchor in his panic, but it was difficult when he could just barely see the glowing orange light of the room in the distant hallway. 

What if he was wrong? 

What if he was about to walk in on something that didn’t concern him at all, something that would no doubt get him  _ killed  _ -

His pulse was jackhammering but it all came to a screeching halt when pain lanced from his palm and up his wrist. It was so bright and so sharp that he had to lean against one of the walls to keep his balance. It felt like every sensation in his body was tied to his palm, felt his surroundings shrinking around it, felt sick and dizzy with it. Struggling, he kept walking, shoulder sliding against the grooves in the concrete. The doorway was approaching, about forty feet away, when suddenly it darkened. Two shapes shuffled out of it, one much bigger than the other. Link froze, body still rigid with pain, giving in a silent gasp. His vision wavered, almost went black, but he clung tightly to himself, keeping deathly still. He couldn’t make out much of the first figure, but he came back into focus on the second. 

Link’s blood ran cold when he recognized her shoes and dress. 

It was her. She was the girl Rhett had been dancing with. And her arms were covered in what looked like caked blood as she sprinted down the hallway. She ran like she had somewhere to be, not like someone had seen her. Link watched her silhouette take shape as she fled down the hall, somehow distorted and making one of her arms look much longer than the other, awkwardly bent in two places. 

  
  


Link stayed still, let her retreat down the hall, before he crept forward again. The pain in his hand subsided to a dull ache, but never went fully away. Link took one last breath before he slipped into the room. He didn’t allow himself time to stall, to shy away, to change his mind. He knew this was what had to be done. He knew he was going to find Rhett. He could only hope and pray to whoever would listen that the state he was in was manageable.

No one listened to Link’s prayers. 

Or, if they listened, they laughed in his face. 

Link pressed himself against the wall beside the door, hoping he was staying within some kind of shadow, just in case there were others in this room. His eyes shut tightly, he allowed himself one more breath before he opened them. 

The air that filtered into his nostrils was putrid. It hung dense and thick and felt like Link had pressed his nose into the decaying remains of hot North Carolina summer roadkill. He stumbled forward, his eyes bugging open as the stench fully hit. 

The sights did nothing to regale the nausea that bloomed deep, deep within his gut. 

Dirt, grime, copper rust, bright red  _ blood.  _ Link felt himself get lightheaded, tried to keep a grip on whatever strength he still had in left his body. Hooks hung rattled from the ceiling, the squeak of rust chains echoing into Link’s ears. A dirty and wet-looking chainsaw glinted in the flickering light. Finally, finally, his eyes snagged on the only other person in the room. 

He was curled into a corner, dark stains spreading from around him. He looked beaten, dishevelled, and Link almost didn’t recognize him until he looked up. It seemed like it took a huge amount of effort, just to lift his head, but Link could never mistake the gaze of those blue eyes. 

It was Rhett. 

_ God. Oh, fuck.  _

It was _ Rhett.  _

Rhett was sitting, his clothes in shreds, arms folded into his lap. One arm was bent slightly at the elbow and then turned gray, pale with thick black strung between it, stretching supple skin and holding it together. Link caught another whiff of decaying meat, cloying sour sweetness, and vomit surged up his throat in a rush. He bent forward, gasping as the hot liquid shot over his tongue and pooled between his feet. He wanted to gag again, wanted to vomit, wanted to wring himself  _ dry,  _ but Rhett was reaching out to him. 

He stepped forward, knelt down in front of him. He didn’t even pause to think about the way the bloodstains on the floor were seeping into the knees of his jeans, though the unnervingly warm squelch of it sent a shudder down his spine. He was close now, though he didn't remember crossing the room. He was close enough that this time when Rhett reached out, he made contact. 

Only….

Only  _ Rhett  _ didn’t make contact because hanging limply on the end of what used to be his arm was the remains of  _ another  _ arm. It was flesh that was  _ someone else’s  _ but now it was attached to Rhett. It was sick and it was strange and it was all Link could do to keep his stomach in place when a stiff and rigid finger brushed against his neck and shoulder. 

Link held his breath and stood up, brushing the arm away from him. He couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t think about  _ anything  _ except getting Rhett out of there and getting both of them into the payphone booth toward the corner of the street. Link clenched his teeth and tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, fear and frustration and abject horror finding ways to be known no matter how desperately he pushed them away. His vision blurred, and he reached forward to Rhett. 

The moment his hands touched Rhett’s shoulders, his scar stopped hurting. The pain was almost immediately gone, zapped from him like he had been holding on to the business end of a stun cane and decided it was time to let go. He squeezed and Rhett moaned. 

Briefly, he flickered back into consciousness. 

“Rhett?” Link tried. “Rhett!” 

But Rhett just shook his head. His voice was a hoarse mumble. “Y’re not here. ‘m jus’ dreamin’ y’ are.” 

“No.” Link’s voice sounded like a sob. “No, buddy. I’m here. We gotta get you...we gotta get out of this place.” 

Link almost asked Rhett if he could stand, but the loll of his head told him everything he needed to know. Link nodded to himself and reached down to untie the thick rope around Rhett’s body. It wasn’t tied very tightly, a true testament to how weak Rhett was. Link found himself wondering how much blood Rhett had lost, wondered if he should spend time checking for signs of a fever, but he brushed the panicked thought to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t be able to do anything if he didn’t get them  _ out.  _

“Okay, Rhett. I’m gonna lift you up, brother. It’s okay if you feel like you can’t walk. I can walk for both of us.” Words fell out of Link’s mouth laced with anxiety. He wasn’t sure if he was rambling for his sake or Rhett’s. 

Rhett didn’t react, so Link shoved his hands beneath his armpits and somehow hoisted Rhett into a limp standing position in one go. It was a bit difficult to maneuver Rhett over his shoulders. He had to lean him against the wall so he could drag him into position. Rhett’s good arm hung over Link’s back, Link clutching around to Rhett’s hip, while Rhett’s mangled  _ arm  _ hung down from its socket. 

The first steps out of the room were slow, and Link had already broken a sweat. Rhett was quite a bit heavier than he was, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins was helping him along. This was all resting on Link. He  _ had  _ to get them out. Rhett shuffled next to him, they had just made it into the hall when Rhett seemed to perk up. 

“Link.” It was a statement, not a question. “What’s happenin’?” 

Rhett wrenched in his grip, tried to turn around to peer back into the doorway. Link held fast. 

“No! Don’t you  _ dare  _ look back.” Link could tell Rhett had somehow become more aware than he was moments ago. 

“What’s going  _ on?”  _ Rhett still tried to look. 

Link took his other arm and pushed Rhett’s jaw so his gaze was locked with Link’s. “Just keep your eyes on me.” 

Rhett listened, stared intently into Link’s gaze. His eyes were clear, stunning with how alert they looked, despite his grit and blood covered face. “You’re holding back.” 

Link had no answer to that. He was. And Rhett knew it. He held Rhett’s gaze for just a moment more before he started walking again. Rhett’s clarity seemed to start to slip all at once. “All she wanted was to dance with me…” 

Link felt a lump rise in his throat, bringing more bile with it. He swallowed it down, throat sticking with dryness. “I know, brother. I know.” 

Link pressed on, Rhett fading next to him with each and every step. If Link wasn’t suffering under Rhett’s weight, he might be worried Rhett wasn’t  _ actually  _ there. Link didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t know where he would go after he dragged them out of the long hallway they were moving quickly down. He had no idea how to fall into the role of rescuer, how to command the situation. It wasn’t something he had ever thought he would  _ do.  _

They were getting close to the doorway that Link had come into what almost seemed like an eternity ago. Link felt like he was a completely different person walking out than when he walked in. He had to blink his tears away in order to keep his vision clear. He couldn’t afford to  _ feel  _ the emotions that were welling up. They weren’t safe yet, Rhett needed help. He didn’t have the time. 

Link could see outside, the night hung heavy and silent. He knew once they got outside it would be crunch time. He knew they couldn’t stay out in the open for very long if they wanted to remain unnoticed. He stopped and took a moment to catch his breath before he dragged Rhett out into the empty street, the eerie glow of the streetlights glaring off the road and somehow making it look wet. He wished with a surge of guilt that he had driven here, that would have obviously been  _ smarter _ but Rhett had his keys with him when they went out last night. He would have to call 911 again in order to get out. 

_ Check it out - remember where that is when we have to call 911 later…  _

Link remembered seeing a payphone in a rickety booth a few yards up the street. He remembered Rhett pointing it out to him as a joke, but Rhett’s words echoing in his head did nothing but turn his stomach violently now. Still, he looked up the street and saw it there, rusted metal somehow still shining in the dark. 

“Okay, Rhett. Here we go, brother. Just hang on. I have you.” Link heard himself speaking and had to wonder again if he was doing it for Rhett’s sake or his own. 

Rhett mumbled something, head hanging heavily forward. Link couldn’t make out any words, but he swore he could hear spit bubbling against Rhett’s lips. He prayed it was saliva and not blood dripping from his mouth and caking in the cracks of his teeth and -

_ No.  _

He had to stay strong for just a little longer. He couldn’t let his thoughts run wild and rampant, not until Rhett was in an ambulance. He had to keep his panic switched off, had to keep his breathing as level as he could until they were  _ out.  _ Link gathered himself, and situated Rhett against his back once more as comfortably as he could. All he needed to do was get them to the payphone. Once they got to that phone, everything would be okay. Someone would come. 

Each step seemed to take an eternity as they shuffled along the sidewalk, Rhett’s shoes scuffing in the dust. Link’s muscles were starting to strain and burn, each movement hurt more and more the closer they got. The payphone became a haven, a destination that would save Link from the horrific reality around him. If he made it there, everything would be okay. Maybe it would all go back to the way things were two days ago. Maybe he would wake up with a start and realize this was all a dream. 

Rhett seemed to get heavier with every step, his weight starting to slip from Link’s grip. Link gave one final push and sprinted the last few steps to the phone, Rhett dragging behind and finally falling into a seated position on the cracked sidewalk. He leaned against the door of the booth, panting heavily. 

“...L’nk?” Rhett’s voice was hoarse. “Thirsty.” 

“I know you are, bo.” Link’s voice seemed to screech in his own ears, lifted a few octaves in panic. “We’ll get you something soon. We’re almost done. You gotta get up for just a second, so we can get inside.” 

Link didn’t really know how he was going to cram himself and Rhett into the small confines of the phone booth, but he knew there wasn’t another option. He wrenched Rhett up, clutching on to one of his biceps before yanking the door behind him open. Rhett fell back down, leaning and propping the door open with the dead weight of his body. His head leaned back and Link knew he wasn’t going to move again. 

Link took a deep breath and climbed over the tangle of limbs that Rhett was - limbs that weren’t all  _ his -  _ A flash of a chainsaw ripping and whirring and sawing into bone assaulted Link’s senses. He gnashed his teeth against the shakes, against the tears that wanted to flow. He tore the phone from the cradle, the dial tone echoing against the fogged glass. He punched in the numbers, buttons feeling cold and metallic under his fingers. 

Link clutched the phone to his ear as it rung. It was shrill and hurt his ears. He reached down and grabbed Rhett’s shoulder with his other hand. He was afraid if he lost contact, he would lose him again. He was convinced he would look down and Rhett would have disappeared again. 

His call was answered after the second ring. He started talking before they could. “Help. Please we need help. I’m - we need the police.” 

“Name and location?” 

“Charles, I don’t-” Link was cut off with a sigh crackling static through the phone line. 

“Look, kid. We already told you…” 

“ _ No!”  _ Link screamed. He felt Rhett flinch next to him. “No! I have him. I  _ have  _ him. He’s - we need an ambulance. And the police. They’re still  _ in  _ there. Please.  _ Please  _ help us.” 

Link could feel tears falling down his face, hot and angry and etching stinging tracks down the sweat already dried on his face. “Stay on the line. Help is on the way.” 

The words make Link break. All the energy he had spent keeping himself together vanished as soon as he knew they weren’t alone in their situation anymore. A sob broke from Link’s lips and he couldn’t hold them back. He wept into the phone, holding it pressed against his ear hard enough that the cartilage was going numb. His shoulders shook and his breaths came out in trembling gasps. 

Rhett stirred next to him. Link looked down, eyes wide and knuckles white around the receiver. 

“Don’ cry, brother. I’m righ’ here. You’re okay. Don’t cry.” 

Link locked eyes with Rhett, stared at him in awe. Link felt more tears well up, hot with guilt and selfishness. He watched blue and red flashing lights starting to dance in the whites of Rhett’s eyes before they rolled back and fell shut again. Link dropped the phone, the receiver clattering horribly, as he reached down to throw himself against Rhett, shield him from the people who were coming. 

The last thing he remembered seeing was Rhett’s mangled and disfigured arm hanging at an impossible angle beside him. 

  
  



	10. Eyes On Me

_ Link sat on the edge of a riverbank, the water rushing quickly below him. He knew it was deep around this curve, so he was mindful of his balance. This wasn’t the place to go in the water. He sat, watching the current flow and rush in the path that it had carved for itself once long ago. He wondered where Rhett was. Usually, they came here together but he wasn’t sitting beside Link. He must have still been on the way. Link was happy to wait, to enjoy the simple pleasure of watching something so calmingly dangerous unfold before him.  _

_ Time bent, stretched, and snapped like a rubber band- and then Rhett was sitting beside him, lowering himself and folding his gangly legs. He came from almost nowhere, but Link didn’t dwell on it. He was just pleased that Rhett had made it.  _

_ They sat in silence for a few long moments. The quiet started comfortable, but soon was charged with static in a way that Link couldn’t entirely comprehend.  _

_ “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Rhett was mumbling, his voice almost sounded robotic, canned, imaginary.  _

_ Link’s head snapped in his direction, but Rhett was still looking blankly ahead. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter, now.”  _

_ Link’s gaze shifted downward, guided by something invisible. Rhett was reaching out to him, fingers sliding through the grass, threading through the blades.  _

_ The fingers did not belong to Rhett. Rhett’s hand was gone, half his arm had been replaced by a necrotic hunk of flesh. It felt cold at stiff when the hand brushed against Link’s and Link’s lips opened with a silent scream before Rhett was launching himself toward his shoulders. Link moved, a jerking motion that caused the edge of the ground beneath him to crumble. He fell, hung sideways and halfway off the bank. The waters before had seemed peaceful, but now they raged beneath him, rushing so loudly in his ears.  _

_ Rhett reached out to help him, and Link clutched onto the foreign hand that Rhett presented. He pulled, trying to center his body weight.  _

_ The bone popped and separated from Rhett and Link was falling from the side, down into the water. He fell for ages, still clutching the unfamiliar arm, his limbs getting wrapped and caught up in thick black string that sprung from it in ribbons. They wrapped around his face, filled his mouth and nose and pressed deep inside, grabbing his breath and snatching it away -  _

  
  


Link jolted awake, his stomach feeling like it had been dropped from a great height. He took in a huge breath before he was oriented to the room around him. 

His feet were flat on the floor. He had been hunched awardly to the side in a chair that was less than comfortable. Link rubbed his eyes, listening as sound filtered in. A faint but insistent beeping filled the air. The room was dark, but the hallway outside was bright and he could hear voices down it. Underlying all of that, he could hear the deep and regulated breaths of  _ someone else  _ \- 

The night flashed through Link’s mind and his eyes flew back open. This was so clearly a hospital room. He knew what he was doing here. He knew who was breathing in that bed in front of him. A strange feeling of fear mixed with relief flushed his veins.  _ At least he’s breathing.  _

Link let his eyes travel up the bed. Rhett’s legs were just two white lumps covered by the stiff hospital blanket. He followed them to his torso, stared at how small the frame of Rhett’s hips looked. His gaze hung there, he didn’t want to move them any higher. He didn’t want to see Rhett’s  _ arms  _ he didn’t want to know for sure what was left. He didn’t want to see Rhett’s face, glinting with pain and confusion even while he slept. 

He didn’t want to. But he knew he had to. 

One of Rhett’s arms were folded loosely to his chest. It looked comfortable, he had seen Rhett sleep like that countless times. The bandage on Rhett’s other arm was almost the same color as the blanket, and for a moment Link thought maybe it was just beneath the sheets. Tears sprang to Link’s eyes and his throat burned with a sob he didn’t let form when he saw a faint bloodstain on the dressings packed tightly to the end of Rhett’s arm. 

It ended abruptly below the elbow, a few inches beneath the joint. 

Link had to tear his gaze away, and instead searched Rhett’s too-relaxed sleeping face. There were lines forming around his eyes that Link had never seen there before. They were caked with dirt, ran differently to the laugh lines he’d seen on Rhett countless times. These were different, Link could tell they came from distress. One of Rhett’s temples was red and swollen, the echo of dried blood still visible against his pale skin. 

Tears streamed down Link’s face. His vision was blurred. He held a hand flat against his open mouth, determined to keep quiet, determined to not wake Rhett up. He shook, breaths heaving out of him, hurting his chest. His shoulder stabbed with a dull stretching pain and his legs and back felt like he had run a mile. He knew his clothes were still dirty, knew he was a wreck and probably still covered in Rhett’s blood -

The last time he had Rhett’s blood on him was that afternoon in the river. Link ran his fingers across his palm, middle finger barely reaching the groove of his skin. It didn’t hurt anymore. It felt like nothing, almost numb. Link realized, horrified, that Rhett no longer  _ had  _ the hand with his scar. He knew without a doubt that whatever future he had been imagining for them together had just been smashed into a thousand pieces. Link felt, with the same amount of surety, that he was going to be the one to reassemble them into something salvageable. 

And if he couldn’t, he’d fall apart just the same. 

A sob finally tore from his throat, a dragging and hoarse sound. The noise was quiet, but somehow enough to wake Rhett from his slumber. 

His eyes peeled open, his breath gasped. He was sitting up before Link even realized he was awake, reaching up with his hands to tear the cannula from his nose. The fingers on his right hand curled around the fine tubing, but the other hand fell short. 

“Rhett, wait-” Link gasped out, but Rhett was lifting his other arm to his eye level. 

Link watched as Rhett’s eyes rolled back in his head, as his mouth opened in a scream that was anything but silent. 

Link’s hand stayed pressed over his mouth as the machines connected to Rhett began to beep, his body on the bed began to convulse. Link stepped forward, but was pushed back against the wall by the four medical staff that rushed into the room, responding to Rhett’s alarm bells. The commotion swirled around Link, his ears numb to everything except Rhett’s almost howling cries. They were long and low and whining. Link could see him holding his injured arm up above, staring at it as a nurse checked his bandages. 

_ “Please - Please, oh god -”  _ Rhett’s words were slurred, he was begging everyone around him and it sent sharp ice through Link’s veins. He felt like the bottom was dropping out of his world  _ again.  _

Another nurse rushed into the room, but stopped short when she saw Link pressed up against the wall, trembling with a hand still over his mouth. She ushered him outside, and Link was sure gave him some words of encouragement. Link couldn’t hear them over Rhett’s pleading. 

_ “Please, please, no. Please!”  _

Link felt a hollow sort of shame creep in that Rhett wasn’t pleading for him to come in and fix it all. He wasn’t even entirely sure if Rhett had known he was there. The last thing he wanted was for Rhett to feel alone in this, right now at this moment. He tried to go back in, but the same nurse had snapped the door shut. 

Link stood in that hallway listening to the fluorescent lights buzz overhead until another nurse came up to him and told him to go home. 

He didn’t know how to tell her his home was trapped in that bed, was not whole any longer. 


	11. The Fading Light

Rhett floated. 

He filtered in an out, it was a familiar feeling by now, but this time something felt different. He was fuzzy around the edges in a hazier way than he was used to. He felt something that was trying to be soft under his body. He felt...secure but oddly unbalanced. 

His body felt stuffed full of cotton, almost felt like it was coming out from his ears. The sensation brought forth an image of a raggity old teddy bear he remembered from his childhood. It wasn’t his, but it was achingly intimate in its familiarity. The batting was coming out in the places that the stitching had come worn and undone. It was barely staying together at the seams, one of its arms was falling almost completely off… 

Rhett drifted again, now to somewhere much less soft. 

Something metallic was  _ whirring  _ in his ears and he couldn’t move, his limbs all paralyzed. He couldn’t see, but he knew was bound to a table by a set of large hands. It was humid, sticky hot, and Rhett swore he could smell rot and stomach acid and it was enough to make his head spin. 

He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to drag himself out of the tortured nothing of his half slumber, but his mind felt like it was coated in wet cement. His eyelids felt glued shut, thousand pound weights secured to his lashes. 

A sharp tug in his left arm brought the vivid image of the bear back, with more context this time. Its arm had severed completely now, but it was tossed in the mussed sheets of Link’s childhood bed. He reached out for it, but his arm wouldn’t extend far enough. It stopped just short of his warped line of vision. 

The sheets on Link’s bed started moving, twirling like water flowing down a drain. They were sucked inside the mattress, an impossible vortex, and the bear sucked down with it. Rhett leaned forward, trying to look - trying to see  _ where  _ they were going - 

He caught a blurred glimpse of Link himself wrapped up in the sheets within the bed. They were surrounding his throat and tightening like a noose and when Rhett tried to say something, tried to shout to him, nothing but suffocating smoke expelled from his lungs. A choked sob tore up from Link’s throat and the sound had Rhett’s eyes flying open. 

He swore the skin on his cheeks tore from the force of it. His eyes felt gritty, like he had been dragged face first through fresh gravel. He shot up into a sitting position without really telling his body to do so and the pain it caused stole the breath from his lungs. He gasped, a hoarse noise that almost dragged blood up his cracked throat. Where was he? What was going on? Rhett’s eyes were open but he could not seem to grasp his surroundings. He floundered, his heart hammering up in his throat. The room was dark, but he could tell the walls, the bed,  _ everything  _ was stark clinical white. 

A hospital? 

Rhett could feel something shoved up his nose and he wanted it out  _ now.  _ What if it wasn’t a hospital? What if those people still had him? What if that  _ woman  _ was pumping him full of drugs every breath he took? A roll of hot nausea ripped Rhett asunder and he reached up for the tubing around his nose. His right hand connected, but his left was grasping at nothing. 

Was it grasping at all? 

He couldn’t feel it there. 

He couldn’t feel it, but  _ oh  _ the pain was unbearable. 

“Rhett, wait-” Link’s voice filtered into his ears. He recognized it without hesitation, but he did not listen. 

He should have listened. 

He lifted his left arm up to his still wavering field of vision. And kept lifting. He fingers should have been trembling with all the adrenaline running through his veins, but they were not there. A thick white bandage was there instead, packed tight just below his elbow, where his arm abruptly ended. His forearm should have been there, he swore he was moving his fingers but they weren’t  _ there.  _

_ His arm was fucking gone.  _

Rhett felt all the air leave his body and the room itself. His body shook, violent trembles wracking his exhausted frame. He could hear Link trying to speak to him beneath the commotion in his own head. His words faded under the rush of ringing in his ears, laced tightly together by sudden rapid beeping. Rhett tried to breathe, but the air got caught in his teeth like spiderwebs and he could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

He shook, rattled the railing on the side of the bed, convulsing so hard it was a miracle the wires and IVs he was connected to did not dislodge. Rhett’s mind tumbled, his world lifted upside down and dumped out until his skull was empty. 

Nothing was ever  _ ever _ going to be the same now, and the thought tore Rhett into pieces. His arm - 

A sob tore out of him, a low keening, like a broken and dying animal, and he couldn’t stop it. His lips were moving, forming words, pleading with the people around him, pleading with a god who had obviously abandoned him days before. He begged for his arm back, for his body to be whole again. He plead for Link to leave, and not have to see this, to see him completely  _ wrecked  _ like this. He craved for Link to stay, to stand by his side and clutch his remaining hand with his steady grasp, to ground him back from what could  _ not  _ be reality. 

He held the stump of bandages in front of his eyes. His gaze smouldered on it, hot and intense, even as a nurse with cold gloved hands tried to pry it from the iron grip of his other hand and adjust the bandages. His chest heaved. He felt hollow and he retched, spitting up a painful mouthful of absolutely nothing. His head swirled, there was so much going on around him and he could not  _ breathe  _ and his chest was going to implode and he was going to die here and it wasn’t going to matter that he didn’t have his fucking  _ arm  _ because he was going to be dead and ---

Rhett choked. 

Something sharp pressed itself into the toned flesh of his right bicep and clarity was almost instantaneous. 

The only thought he had before falling back into blissful and controlled nothingness was clear and piercing. 

He was never going to be enough for Link now. 


	12. Felt it in My Chest

The next week went by in a blur for Rhett. 

For the first few days, he was too out of it to notice the time passing. He counted the hours with meds and vitals. It seemed like they only came to poke and prod when he had finally found sleep. The nurses would come in to stick him with a needle or force him to swallow a pill as soon as he closed his eyes. 

Sometimes, when he opened his eyes Link would be there. He didn’t say much those first two days, just stared at Rhett with big, horrified eyes. He opened his mouth to speak every time Rhett looked at him, but the words never came out. And that was fine by Rhett. He felt sure he knew what Link was going to say, even through the haze of his drugs. He knew Link wasn’t going to stick around after this, knew he was staying close to Rhett purely out of obligation. Once he was well enough, he was sure Link was going to pass him off to his mother. He was surely her problem. 

Rhett had told the nurses who asked him once he’d woken the second time that Link was allowed to come back in. They’d told him he had been sitting in the waiting room for hours. Their words were “refused to leave”, but all Rhett could hear was “he pities you”. He’d told them Link could come back, and it was purely selfish. He wanted to enjoy what time he had left in Link’s company. 

Even if the situation was less than ideal. 

By the third day, Rhett was a little more lucid. He’d begun to get used to the fuzzy feeling the IV drugs gave him. Everything was just a little distorted around the edges and it almost became a security blanket for him. If he focused on that feeling, he could almost -  _ almost -  _ ignore the foreign aching sensation in his left forearm. 

Everyone around him kept asking him if he was okay, and every time he said yes. He said yes because he  _ wanted  _ so desperately to be okay. Rhett didn’t think he was fooling anyone. Not the nurses who were giving him meds, the doctors who peered at him down their noses, the psychologist who came to evaluate him, his best friend who sat silently beside him, and definitely not  _ himself.  _

Rhett woke one afternoon to the hazy sunlight reflecting through the window and bouncing off clinical-white walls. They were suffocating, whiter than a mouthful of well manicured teeth, and Rhett almost shut his eyes against the glare. But before he could close them all the way, he caught a glimpse of Link sitting in the same chair he had taken up residence in a few days earlier. Rhett stared at him with mostly lidded eyes. If Link looked he would think Rhett was still sleeping. He must be exhausted. His back must hurt. He must resent Rhett. 

The light haloed around his dark hair and sent Rhett’s heart to his throat. He was so beautiful. His presence brought a gentle sort of calm that Rhett couldn’t explain. If he squinted hard enough, he could almost replace the hospital backdrop with the sounds and smells from the Cape Fear River that one day when they were both 13….

Link chose at that moment to flex his left hand a few times before looking down to stare at it. He seemed to glare absolutely  _ daggers  _ into it. Like he was trying to give himself  _ another  _ scar. He bent and straightened his fingers another few times before a realization hit Rhett so hard he almost gasped aloud. He bit his tongue and tried to keep his face still. 

The scar. 

_ Their  _ scar. 

The mark of something stupid that they had done when they were children. The little cut that held them close to each other, that kept them connected against all odds. 

And Rhett’s was gone. 

He realized this and shut his eyes all the way against the swell of emotion that rose. It brought tears to his eyes, caught them in his eyelashes. His scar had been taken from him, the one thing he had counted on  _ always having.  _ Now he felt like he couldn’t count on anything. 

The thought was disorienting. It almost had him pressing the button to call the nurse for more meds, just enough to send him straight back into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Instead, he clenched his jaw and tried to stop the sobs that wanted to spill over. He didn’t want Link to see this part of him. He didn’t want Link to see  _ any  _ of this. 

But Rhett knew Link was watching. He could feel his stare boring into him, even with his eyes closed tightly. Rhett’s throat wanted to close just as tightly. He worked to keep his breathing measured, worked to escape the cloying feeling of panic. He just wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to fall back into a dream where he was still whole, where his best friend looked at him with something other than pity and borderline fear. A few hot tears escaped and fell, trickling down his nose. Rhett didn’t reach up to wipe them away. 

  
  


Even so, somehow sleep found Rhett. He faded in and out, the feeling had become usual and somehow familiar and routine. He was at ease when he stayed within himself. There was no one else to disappoint there. 

When Rhett awoke again, it was to the sound of Link’s voice. It was dry and quiet, sounded like he hadn’t used it in hours - maybe days. 

“No,” his voice cracked. Rhett listened. “He’s- he won’t be alone. I’ll be there. We, uh. We live together.” 

“Are you sure, son?” A man’s voice was asking. Was it the doctor? Rhett didn’t care to open his eyes to find out. “He’s going to need a lot of care.” 

_ He’s going to be a burden  _ Rhett’s mind supplied. 

“I’m positive. I won’t let him be alone.” Link said. His words sounded still and sure and Rhett wished he could curl up in the timbre of his voice for the rest of his days. “Not again.” Link added quietly, Rhett swore too quietly for anyone else to hear. 

It almost brought heat to Rhett’s cheeks, knowing that Link was offering to care for him so intimately. But the feeling did not last long, as the wretched voice of doubt filed into his thoughts. He knew Link was  _ still  _ only doing this out of obligation. Was Link really going to want to wait on him hand and foot - clean his wounds and keep him bandaged, up on his meds, and on time to appointments? That was too much to ask of anyone. He was positive Link was going to dump him on the first person who tried to take him. 

Rhett kept his eyes closed, trying to swallow around the too-big lump in his throat. Who else  _ was  _ there to look after him? He didn’t  _ want  _ anyone but Link. He didn’t know how he was going to face anyone else ever again - not his friends, not his family -

God, his  _ mom.  _

She had no idea that her son’s life had just been ransacked and burnt to the ground in every sense. How was he going to tell her? What was she going to  _ say -  _

This time, Rhett couldn’t stop the sob that ripped forth. It was deep and heavy and almost brought a dreadful feeling of nausea with it. His eyes opened and Link was staring at him. His gaze was clear and concerned, he had one hand reached out toward Rhett. 

“You’re okay, buddyroll. I’m right - I’m right here.”

Rhett said nothing. Just looked at Link. They were alone in the room again. How long had he spent inside his head trying to keep his sorrow at bay? He couldn’t find the words he needed to say, all he had were more tears. They were spilling with abandon now, thick and hot as they coursed down his cheeks. He wanted to stop, but he  _ couldn’t.  _ He couldn’t ignore this right now, couldn’t shove it down or push it away, even if he wanted to. Rhett’s mouth felt heavy and wet with ropy saliva. It tasted like rusted metal and he could almost feel it rubbing down the enamel on his teeth. 

Rhett’s mouth hung open in anguish, keening cries again coming forth. “L- _ ink! _ ”

His voice sounded cracked and dry. The first real thing he’d said to Link in the week that he had been holed up in this white box of a room, and it was nothing but a desperate plea of the other man’s name. Rhett wasn’t exactly surprised, Link’s name had been on his lips for almost his entire life. The single syllable brought back soft and sanguine memories of childhood. Of long hazy afternoons in the hot sun, with Link’s name on the very tip of his tongue and a confession tagging right along behind, but never to tumble from it. 

Rhett felt heated with embarrassment, with shame. His skin ached with the fervent want to be  _ touched  _ by Link, but it was coupled with a feeling that he would burn into a thousand pieces the second Link got close. Another sob burst forth and drool slid from his mouth with it. It stung his cracked lips and he whined again. He wanted to reach out to Link, to feel him hold his hands -  _ hand  _ \- in his and patiently tell him everything would be fine. 

“Rhett.” Link was speaking, and he was closer than he had been a moment ago. 

Rhett felt like his eyes rolled in his head when he turned to look, his skull heavy on his neck. Hair brushed against his cheek and it felt greasy-smooth. Rhett took a stuttering breath, trying to breathe in the familiar and comforting scent that was nothing but  _ Link.  _ It made him have to suck in a huge gulp of air and it felt like heaven in his lungs. The smell of Link was making him feel better than even the strongest drugs dripping into his veins. Rhett nodded, felt his collar bones creak with the movement that somehow sent pain to lace outward to the very fringes of his body. 

“ _ Link _ -” His teeth gnashed against the stinging pain in his fingers that were not present and his jaw tensed around Link’s name. Rhett’s hand fisted in his sheet, crinkling his hospital gown beneath it. He hated that was what he was wearing. He was sure it didn’t look great on his bony legs. Rhett didn’t have the mental stamina to figure out why  _ that  _ was his mind focused on. 

“Rhett.” Link answered again, his name sounding musical coming from Link, its short cadence comforting. Rhett wanted to listen to him say his name over and over and  _ over  _ again until he was able to fall asleep thinking about nothing else. 

Rhett moved without letting himself think. He was trembling, shaking so badly that it was disorienting. He couldn’t stand being in that bed alone for another second. The tiny space felt expansive. The sheets rubbed together and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Everything felt so loud and so big and he just  _ needed  _ to be enclosed in Link’s embrace. He hoped he wouldn’t have to  _ ask - _

He didn’t. 

Link was climbing into the bed before Rhett had fully finished moving. Link helped him move the rough sheets, carefully moved the tubing that connected him to the bag of clear fluid next to him, and slipped into the bed. Link opened one arm and Rhett wormed his way into the space in the hollow of his neck. Rhett fisted one hand against the mattress and Link closed his arms around him, cautious to avoid his injured arm. 

It sat against his side, rested at his hip, and Rhett swore he could feel his fingers twitching out to reach Link. Rhett was still whining, quieter now, voice raw and painful. Link rubbed a hand gently up and down Rhett’s back and the touch was so soft and comforting that Rhett shook with deep sobs anew. He had somehow gotten past feeling embarrassment in the last few moments, all dignity stripped from him. He needed Link and he was selfishly going to take him while he still could. 

He was shushing Rhett, whispering small soothing words, mutters of little pet names that they used to slip into casual conversation every now and again and then pretend they didn’t. Rhett basked in it. It was painful but warm, like staring into the sun for too long on a summer day. It felt as complicated as the series of intricate tubes and wires that connected him to the beeping and humming machines around him. This, in this moment, was all Rhett had  _ ever _ wanted. All he wanted was to be folded up neatly in Link’s arms, surrounded by the love he radiated constantly. Rhett tried not to think too hard about how there was no way Link wanted him like this. Especially not now...

Suddenly, exhaustion clouded over him. His ears rang with it and his heart sank. Everything was gone, his sobs silenced, but tears still falling quietly. Link had taken to leaning his face against the top of Rhett’s head so he could whisper encouragingly to him. The patch of hair beneath Link began to grow wet and Link’s quiet words became stuttered with sharp sniffles. Guilt swelled in Rhett. He was too tired to place it where it belonged and pin it down. 

All he could do was wriggle a little further into Link, gritting against the pain that it caused to blossom, and bury his face into his chest. He breathed in purely Link again on the shirt that Link had been wearing for the last day or two and he felt immediately relaxed. Link never stopped rubbing his back and Rhett fell head first into the only  _ real  _ sleep he had gotten in the past week. 


	13. Deep in Her Eyes

The drive home from the hospital was a bright and painful blur. Rhett had somehow forgotten just  _ how  _ vivid the dazzling light of the sun was until he was wheeled out of the front doors of the hospital. It had been more than a week since he had felt it warm his skin. It felt good - but it was almost overwhelming. It was almost like Rhett didn’t know how to process a  _ pleasant  _ feeling - he’d become so accustomed to the cold clinical proddings and empty touches. 

And Link’s touches, which were anything but empty. 

Link’s touches shone glimmering amidst everything. They were better than the sunshine to Rhett, they were better than  _ any  _ other good thing he could think of. They were the only source of light during the long nights spent trying to get comfortable on rough sheets. Rhett knew he was only getting through them because he was wrapped so tightly around Link. 

He was so lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed that he had been ushered out of the wheelchair and into the front seat of his own truck until the door snapped shut. Rhett turned his head to look out the window, the girl who had wheeled him down smiled a genuine sweet smile and waved a little. Rhett started to smile back, but as she turned away with the wheelchair, her face morphed. Her smile turned into something sickly sweet, dripping with red. Her eyes blackened, edges twisted up with her sinister grin. Her scrubs changed into a little black dress, sneakers stained bloody crimson. A dark shape loomed in the chair in front of her as she pushed it toward the hospital. It lolled, lopsided and something vaguely  _ arm shaped _ fell off as soon as she rolled it over the threshold. 

A breath caught up in Rhett’s throat, pulse hammering quickly. Alarm felt hot in his chest, a cold sweat breaking across the back of his neck and making him feel slimy. He clenched his fists, swore he could feel  _ both  _ sets of fingernails clawing into his palms. Rhett’s throat was starting to close up, his vision was starting to go blurry-soft at the edges, he -

Was startled back into calm by a gentle hand cupping his shoulder. 

“You ready to hit the road, brother?” Link asked, his voice quiet and easy. 

Rhett turned to look at him, and the world buzzed back into focus. He let out a breath and felt his cheeks cool down almost instantly. He took one more breath, and nodded to Link.

“I’ll try to take it easy on the potholes, but you lemme know if I gotta stop.” Link spoke quickly, seemed to try to get his words out without letting pity color them. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Rhett’s voice was still a croak, throat felt cracked and raw and dry still from all the  _ screaming -  _

He swallowed hard as Link put the keys in the ignition and revved until the engine turned over. He looked down to his lap, purposefully not letting his eyes drift to his arm tucked up against his side. Instead, his gaze lingered on what he hadn’t noticed was in his lap before now. It was a pink basin, small and curved and made of unnaturally shiny plastic. It fit nestled in his lap, longways and curved toward one knee. It was an awful shade of pink, something between rose and bubblegum, a color that only a hospital would find fitting. Rhett stared, knowing immediately what it was, and deciding immediately that he was  _ not  _ going to need to use it. 

He knew the meds he was on made him woozy, he knew sitting in a car could turn his stomach, empty but for a few awful bites of hospital lunch. Link had started to drive, and even the slow movement brought a worrying cramp to Rhett’s middle. He swallowed, feeling dizzy and detached. He breathed hard through his nose, his throat feeling tight and hot and  _ stinging.  _ He glared into the thin pale plastic. He could almost see his own reflection in it if he looked hard enough. Terrified of lifting his gaze to see buildings and trees passing him in a rush, he kept his gaze down. He tried to keep his breath deep and even, tried to keep his mind present, tried to keep his stomach in place. 

He was  _ not  _ going to vomit in his own car in front of Link. He’d humiliated himself enough already. He blinked, hard, and continued to stare. He was sure his skin was pale and sallow and sweating. He could feel Link looking over at him every few moments, but Rhett couldn’t bring himself to move a muscle. He had to stay as still as he could until the truck stopped moving and he could get out and place his feet on the ground. The cab rocked slightly around a turn and Rhett let a moan slip out. 

“We’re almost there. You holdin’ up?” Link’s voice was still quiet. 

Rhett nodded tightly. He didn’t move or shift his gaze, stayed focused on the smooth bottom of the basin. He was determined to keep it clean. He saw a blur of color on his left side, his arm  _ throbbed,  _ he thought for a moment Link was going to touch him and that would have been the  _ worst thing -  _ but it was just Link reaching forward to turn the air conditioning knob up. The cool air blasted Rhett and the relief was almost instantaneous. His shoulders relaxed a touch, and he was able to breathe a little easier. 

Link always knew what he needed. 

They arrived at their apartment with Rhett’s stomach in place and with everything still in it. He had to sit for a moment to quell the residual nausea before he felt ready enough to mount the stairs that led to their doorway. Chilled panic washed through Rhett’s veins. What if they ran into someone in the hall? Rhett knew people would stare at him, limping with his sore body and absent limb. He was going to walk through familiar doors, retrace old memorized footsteps, but he himself was now anything but familiar. 

“I’ve got ya.” Link whispered, suddenly beside Rhett and holding the little paper bag of his medication. “I’ll come down for the clothes and stuff later.” 

Rhett nodded again, unable to disagree with Link at all. He knew Link  _ did  _ have him. He’d had him for nearly the last decade. He let Link guide him to the door, and stood feeling awkward and too tall while Link unlocked it and let them in. 

Rhett tried to take a deep breath, tried to steal himself before entering their apartment. He knew it would look similar to the way it looked when he had left. He knew  _ he  _ was what had changed, what looked different. Link disappeared into the doorway in front of him, but Rhett was reluctant to follow. He balled his hands into fists at his sides - s _ wore  _ he could feel both sets of fingertips pressing into his palms. Reality would take his breath away. 

“Rhett?” Link poked his head back out, eyes tired and full of something Rhett couldn’t place, something he had never seen in Link’s eyes before. Rhett held his gaze for a moment too long. “Come on, bo. Let’s get you inside.” 

Numbly, Rhett nodded and followed Link inside. He didn’t want to, but he could hardly stay in the hallway forever. Exhaustion was beginning to creep in. He wanted nothing more than to curl into himself on the couch and sleep for a few days. Link shut the door gently behind him and the walls seemed to close in. 

The furniture was in the same place as it was when he left, the posters on the wall and photos taped up behind the couch were the same. Rhett’s eyes danced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Somehow, they seemed foreign to him, like he would have to relearn everything about them. Rhett’s mouth went dry and he tried to swallow down nothing, his throat clicked and his eyes stung with urge to cry. It didn’t make sense - he was  _ home  _ he should be  _ glad  _ about that. 

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch?” Link suggested gently, and Rhett found himself nodding again. His feet moved without much thought, his eyes still wide and taking in everything around him. 

His desk looked exactly the same, everything right where he had left it - down to the pen stuck in between the pages of the textbook he had been trying to study from before they left that night -

_ Lights flashed in the darkness, shadowed and featureless bodies danced in a tangle in front of him, moving slowly with the strobes. A girl stuttered forward, getting closer with each flash, teeth bared in a too-big smile, bones cracking and distorting with every flash of light-  _

Rhett took in a shuddering breath, it stung his chest. His eyes refocused on something that glittered on the floor, recognized it as shards of glass and stared at it for a while. Still numb, he knew he should be feeling some kind of emotion about it, should be asking Link what that was from, but all he could do was stare, felt like if he looked away he would shatter just like it. His eyes trailed down the glistening pieces, and they led him to the base of his guitar he had left propped against the wall. 

The guitar he’d been playing since he was fourteen years old. 

The guitar he’d never be able to hold again. 

The tears he had been keeping back blurred into his vision. A sob choked him, wrenched itself up his throat. 

Link was beside him in a moment, setting a glass of water and a plate with toast down on the edge of the table in front of them hastily. The low  _ tink  _ of the plate against the wood reverberated in his head. Link sat next to him, carefully choosing his right side. He placed one hand on Rhett’s shoulder and Rhett fell to pieces. 

Glassy tears bubbled over, Rhett felt his bottom lip stick out and wobble uncontrollably. He felt like a toddler, ridden deep with distress that couldn’t be cured or coddled away. But Link tried anyway. Rhett felt static everywhere that Link laid his fingertips - from the angle of his browline down to the crook of his neck, the back of his shoulder blades. Link was shushing him, making soft little sounds each time he moved his hands. Rhett’s throat felt like sandpaper, exhausted and abused from the sobs dragging from it. 

Rhett lost track of the time, but found himself wrapped up in Link’s arms, trembling beneath a blanket that was haphazardly draped over the both of them. He was thirsty, but didn’t have the energy to ask for anything. Besides, Link was the only thing keeping him from flying apart into millions of pieces, and the thought of him having to get up and take his arms from around Rhett almost made a fresh round of tears surface. 

Rhett was much too tired to give in to them, and instead he closed his eyes and clung guiltily to Link once more. Rhett fell into sleep, still fuzzed around the edges from the drugs still pounding in his system. 


	14. I Don't Know How it Happened

When Rhett’s eyes snapped open, he wasn’t where he thought he was going to be. The pale off-white of their ceiling came into view and he had to blink a few times to adjust. He focused in on a bottle cap that he barely remembered shoving into the plaint material one night when he and Link had been drinking. 

_ “Yeah, I can reach the ceilin’!” Rhett insisted.  _

_ “No, ya can’t!” Link giggled, slurring slightly beneath the heavy tongue the alcohol had given him.  _

_ “Yeah!” Rhett roared, standing up and extending his arm to up high and pressing the bottle cap into the ceiling above him. “I can!” A bit of plaster rained down.  _

_ Link screeched with laughter and Rhett echoed him - the twinkle in Link’s eyes telling him he was going to get to know just how heavy Link’s tongue was first hand.  _

The memory helped numb the traces of the dream he had been having. The shreds were leaving him quickly, water slipping through his fingertips, only the feeling left behind. It was an ugly feeling, one of pain and panic and apprehension. The last two faded into something dull, but pain hung around. It gripped his left arm in fiery vice. Rhett felt like he wanted to crack the bones in his wrist, needed to hear them snap to ease the sore stiffness. He tried to move, tried to roll his hand from side to side. Nothing responded, nothing beyond the sharp pain, and though he could feel his wrist moving, it felt wrong and dull -

And Rhett remembered. 

_ Again. _

He took a moment to reflect and wonder just  _ how  _ many times he was going to have to forget and then  _ remember.  _

Rhett gnashed his teeth and sat up. His head hurt, his eyes felt dry and he could feel thick sand in the corners. Even though he had just woken up, he was too tired to dwell in the miserable shock. He felt groggy, but almost missed the tug and pull of the iv sending drugs into his veins. He hissed a breath out of his clenched teeth. He slid his feet to the floor and bent down, resting his hand against the back of his neck, trying to stretch out his spine. He cradled his left arm on his lap, staring directly at it. 

The blanket fell to the floor and Rhett tore his gaze from his mangled body and watched it lay there. He wondered where Link was, wondered when he got up and left him alone on the couch. Rhett imagined it couldn’t have been long after he’d fallen asleep. He was sure Link didn’t want to spend any more time with him than he absolutely had to - didn’t want to look at his fucking s _ tump  _ of an arm --

“Oh! Mornin’, bo. I wasn’t expecting you to be up yet.” 

Rhett almost jumped at Link’s voice. He looked up and Link was holding two mugs. 

“It’s just tea, but I thought it might be nice to wash down the meds?” He offered. Link didn’t wait for an answer and put the mug down in front of Rhett. He pressed three white pills into Rhett’s palm and held his hand there for a moment, leaving no space for Rhett to argue. “I got up early and read all the instructions on ‘em. It’s the right doses, but if you think ya need more, there’s one you can take every other hour.” 

Link was talking quickly, spewing words and barely stopping to breathe. Rhett put the pills in his mouth and one started to dissolve chalk into his tongue right away. It was bitter and made him want to drool. 

“One of ‘em, says you gotta take with food. But I’m makin’ a bagel for ya. Should be just about done. And if you need more tea, I can microwave more water.” 

Rhett knew Link talked like this as a nervous habit, and it snapped something in his chest knowing he was the one putting Link on edge. Link never  _ never  _ talked this way when it was just the two of them. He spoke soft and slow when it was just them. Or, at least, he used to. 

  
  


“And then if you’re hungry for lunch I can make something, or run to the store to get whatever you might want. So just think about that and -” 

“Link.” Rhett spoke, cutting him off, but not raising his gaze to meet Link’s. He swore he could hear Link almost panting for breath. “It’s okay. Thank you for the tea.” 

Rhett meant it. The tea felt like heaven against his throat. 

He closed his eyes to try to lose himself in the feeling, but was instead greeted with an unpleasant jolt. His own scream reverberated through his head, making him swallow harshly against the tea. He felt scratched and worn down, and in an instant he was taken back to that small room, the stench of it heavy and cloying in his nostrils. He could hear the whining crack of bones - he kept his eyes shut, tried to bring himself to breath through the suffocating terror that shot through him, worked to tread his way back to the surface. 

It was the pop of the toaster that brought him back. He opened his eyes and they felt dry and stinging. Link looked at him, a hesitant yet inquisitive look on his face. Rhett set his jaw and fixed Link with a look that he hoped conveyed  _ not to ask.  _

And for once in his life, Link didn’t. 

Rhett felt nearly disappointed. 

He watched Link walk into the kitchen and heard him banging plates together getting one down from the cupboard. Rhett could have sworn he heard a stifled sob beneath the clatter. It sent white hot shame through Rhett. 

Rhett tried to collect himself while he imagined Link buttering his bagel. His thoughts floated by, and he tried his best to catch them before they wisped away like smoke against cupped palms. The drugs he’d taken were starting to take hold. Groggy pain started to fade away to something that Rhett could store in one corner of his consciousness. 

By the time Link was sweeping back into the room - all awkward angles and edges - Rhett had almost schooled his breathing back to normal. He could smell the inviting aroma of buttery warm bread more than he could smell stale blood, and Rhett took the plate happily. Link had a plate too and sat down on the edge of the chair that sat to the side of the couch. His bagel looked like it had been sitting out for a while, a few nibbles taken here and there. The butter had melted, then cooled, making the inside a pale yellow. He watched Link take a small bite before he took one of his own. 

It was warm. It tasted better than the tea, and Rhett actually felt his stomach growl while he chewed. He took another bite as soon as he swallowed the first and Link laughed. 

“Hungry, brother?” The laughter in his voice was genuine, and it made something sharp in Rhett melt. The sound of his laughter, no matter how short, made his insides feel warmer than they had in days. 

He hated himself for it. 

“Well, yeah.” Rhett said back in a silly voice and took another bite. 

It was fake. He knew it was, and Link knew it was too. But Rhett couldn’t let himself get pulled back in to Link. He couldn’t let himself get lost in his warmth, not when he knew it wouldn’t stay. Rhett couldn’t let himself get left out in the cold when Link inevitably decided he was too much to bear. 

The genuine humor in Link’s eyes shrank and Rhett hated himself for stomping it out. They finished eating in silence, Rhett listening to the soggy dough of Link’s bagel tear with every bite. 

The silence stretched, loose like old elastic. 

Link cleared his throat and picked up their plates. Rhett stared at his empty place on the chair while he was gone. He felt full and sleepy, exhaustion dragged at the corners of his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and curl up. So, he did. By the time Link was back, Rhett was lying on his side, taking up two thirds of the couch. Link snorted, before he walked over and grabbed the remote on the way. 

He sat on the one third of the couch that Rhett wasn’t occupying and mashed the power button on the remote. Nothing happened, so he slapped it against the butt of one of his palms and pressed it again. This time, the tv turned on and Rhett watched the picture come into staticky view, trying not to think about how that was something he  _ couldn’t do  _ anymore. 

The television fizzled to life quickly with small pops of static. 

“Let’s see what’s on.” Link said before he kicked his feet up onto the table, almost knocking a precarious pile of stacked notebooks over. He settled in and started flipping channels, one arm slung up over the back of the couch. 

Rhett wasn’t comfortable. Link flipped through the channels and he tried to get into a better position. His arm was throbbing and sore and awkward. It didn’t feel right tucked up on his left side, the weight of it pressing gently into the subtle jut of his hip. He lifted it up and placed it back down again. It fucking  _ ached,  _ even through the haze of his meds. His shoulder felt awkward, too tense and tight, but he couldn’t relax it, no matter how he tried. He grunted, an angry puff of air from his nose. 

Link paused on the channel he was on. A commercial for something mundane played. Rhett stared at the tv, tired eyes almost glazing over in defeat. Link set the remote down on the space of couch next to his leg. Slowly, he scooted a little closer to Rhett without making eye contact and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He only stopped once his hip was flush to the bottom of Rhett’s thighs, gathering Rhett’s legs into his lap. 

“Tell me if it’s not...okay.” Link said so quietly Rhett almost didn’t hear him over the tv. 

Rhett nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to look up. Link reached over, had to lean against Rhett’s hip just a bit, his slender hand coming to settle on Rhett’s shoulder. He rubbed his thumb across Rhett’s tight muscles gently at first, gradually pressing firmer. 

Rhett groaned, and Link froze. 

“No,” Rhett said, his voice brittle. “It’s good.” 

Good was an understatement. The way Link’s fingers rubbed into his abused muscles was  _ heaven.  _ Rhett hadn’t realized just how much tension he was holding there until Link came to offer him relief. Rhett felt like he was melting under Link’s touch, something warm uncoiled in his stomach and spread. Guilt flickered -

\- this wasn’t  _ real  _ Link was probably  _ disgusted  _ touching him so close to the  _ stub  _ of his fucking arm -

\- but Rhett was too exhausted to indulge it fully before his eyes were drooping closed and he fell into a quiet sleep. 


	15. Took the Floor

Rhett was warm, pleasantly so. He squirmed a little into the heat, his arm twinging in discomfort. Something on top of him moved, and Rhett turned his head to see Link asleep draped over the bottom half of his body. His mouth hung open, features calm and contented. Rhett looked at him for just a moment too long, eyes sliding over each delicate angle of his face. Carefully, Rhett rested his head back down to the couch. He decided he would try to go back to sleep if Link wasn’t awake yet. Maybe he didn’t have to give up this peaceful moment just yet. 

Rhett’s eyes began to close, but he caught a glimpse of the television before they shut all the way. 

“-And reports say its doors may never open again.” 

Rhett’s eyes flew open, fixated immediately on the tv. His nostrils flared and he could feel his heart start to pound heavy in his chest. Above the garish headline:  _ Club Carnage: Open one night only!  _ was a photo of the club he never remembered leaving. 

It took Rhett completely by surprise - he was  _ home.  _ It was supposed to be safe here. His chest heaved and he couldn’t stay laying down anymore. He sat up, dislodging Link entirely. Link made a startled sound, but Rhett couldn’t hear him over the panic that was clouding over him. His ears felt filled with cotton, some of it stuffed down his throat as well. Rhett reached up to his throat, unable to take a breath. Only one hand made contact and all Rhett could hear was the awful slow crack of bones breaking. 

A reporter was speaking into a microphone, standing outside of the front of the club. Rhett couldn’t understand what he was saying, his words were drowned out by the sound of a whirring saw. The structure loomed, and all Rhett could see were meathooks in front of him, dangling and stinking. Rhett was panting, taking short and rapid breaths in, but leaving no time between for exhales to escape. Quickly, he was getting lightheaded. Black danced in front of his eyes and the back of his neck broke into a cold sweat, palms -  _ palm  _ \- feeling clammy. 

Link scrambled for the remote, forgotten on the other end of the couch, and pressed the button to turn the tv off. The screen went black, but Rhett couldn’t see it anymore anyway. All he could see were dark walls caving in around him, surrounded by forgotten pieces of bodies, sitting in his own filth. Link’s hand on his back nearly made him jump out of his skin. For a horrifying moment, Rhett was sure it was  _ her  _ \- and he could see her there, grinning down at him with a smile dripping in his blood - 

But then, the hand splayed on his back and pushed him forward gently. Rhett bent in half easily, head hanging awkwardly between his knees. The rush of blood made him blink rapidly, static fizzling out of his ears for just a second, just long enough for him to make out Link’s voice. 

“Okay, brother. Okay. I’ve got ya. You’re safe here. Deep breath.” 

If Rhett had been able to listen harder, he would have heard the tremble in Link’s voice. 

If he had been able to step outside of his own anguish, he would have seen how hard Link was working to keep himself in check, how difficult it was to be strong for him. 

Rhett tried to focus on the feeling of his shoulders pressing into his thighs. It was a strange enough position that it required attention, made him think about the way he was breathing. It allowed him to feel his belly swelling with air, let him focus on Link’s hand rubbing steadily up and down his spine. His left hand felt oddly numb, felt like it was buzzing with static. He tried to shake his hands out, but only his right hand moved. 

His heart lurched when he looked and saw his stump. The sight never became less alarming, less jarring. 

Link placed his other hand against the front of Rhett’s shoulder, trying to help support his weight. 

“Take another breath, bo. You’re good.” 

Rhett listened. It took him a few tries before he was able to truly fill his lungs again, and when he finally could it burned. It hurt, but the ache started to ease with each breath he took. 

His breath was back to normal, but he was nowhere  _ near  _ calm. He wanted Link’s hands off of him, he was hot with embarrassment. It was stupid for him to have reacted this way, he didn’t want Link to see him like this. It hurt to be this broken in front of him, and Rhett hated himself for it. 

He stood up, shaking Link’s hand off his back. Link retracted almost like he’d been burned, he stared up at Rhett with big sad eyes and anger flared in the pit of Rhett’s stomach. 

“I just - I need a second.” Words fell from Rhett’s mouth on his way out of the room. He scrambled to open their bedroom door, and then slammed it shut behind him. 

Rhett trembled, shook apart. He found himself crouching down, stooping to the floor and leaning against the door when it was too much to stand. His jaw was sore, but still he clenched his teeth  _ hard  _ against the sobs that wanted to come. Hadn’t he cried  _ enough  _ by now? If he couldn’t get past this, why couldn’t he at least shove down the emotion that went along with it? 

Why couldn’t he squash it and put it away just like he had put away the feelings for Link he’d kept safe for years? He was no stranger to stifling emotions, but this was too big. Too fresh, too ugly, too raw. 

It made no sense, but he was angry at himself for not being able to move on. He was angry that he was so weak, so hurt, so helpless. He  _ hated  _ feeling like he was depending too much on others, despised feeling like a burden. He was  _ pissed  _ for even allowing himself to get into this situation all those nights ago. 

Rhett’s nostrils flared with anger, heat rising up his neck. His hand curled into a fist, and his other arm a _ ched  _ deep and intense. This was going to be the rest of his life now. Thinking he was fisting up both hands, but one coming up short every time. How would he even drive anymore? What would he do if someone wanted to shake hands and he offered up nothing but a stump? 

Rhett was up and pacing the room before he even realized what he was doing. His sides hurt, ribs complaining with each movement, but Rhett couldn’t stop. He wore a nervous path over the floor between his bed and Link’s, stepping over laundry that he would have a hell of a time folding now. 

Rhett reached up to tug at his hair, and was met with emptiness on his left side. 

What would he do if he ever got married? Where would he put a ring? 

What would he do if  _ Link  _ ever wanted to - 

  
  


Thinking about Link dragged him from the spiral he had fallen into. It brought him back to where he was, but left the anger with him. He could hear sniffling through the door that didn’t belong to him. He was suddenly  _ very  _ aware of the sound of Link crying from the living room. He froze, anger still running like poison hot through his veins. It made the edges of his vision blur bright red and he knew the back of his neck was sweating. He  _ knew  _ what this kind of blind rage felt like. He’d only felt it a few times, and none quite so  _ hot  _ as this. 

A harsh sob from Link had Rhett across the room and throwing the door open in front of him before he could think better of it. 

Link looked up, head snapping in Rhett’s direction. He held his glasses in his hand and his face was dripped in tears and snot. The sight of it enraged Rhett. Who was  _ Link  _ to get to react like this? Why did he get to sit there and act like he was missing one of  _ his  _ arms? 

Rhett barrelled across the room, inwardly cringing when Link shrank back into the couch. He knew he was towering over him, openly threatening. Link swiped at his eyes and nose, looking taken aback.

Rhett blinked against the images that swam in front of his eyes. He wasn’t in the living room anymore. He was  _ back there  _ in a place that he didn’t have a name for, but one that was familiar nonetheless. Out of nowhere, his arms prickled and the arm he was missing fizzled, angry in its absence. He blinked, disoriented and dizzy out of nowhere. And there  _ she  _ was. She stood behind Link, looming impossibly over his shoulder. She was nothing but a black and faceless silhouette, a figure made of undulating smoke. She leaned down, bent over Link and tucked her face next to his ear, holding a billowing hand up to whisper to him. Her teeth gleamed, black and dreadful. 

“No! You don’t get to do this.” Rhett growled. His voice was low and menacing and he had never heard himself sound like that before. It surprised him but did nothing to blot out the building contempt. He didn’t know if he was speaking to Link or to  _ her. _

“Rhett...what-?” Link’s face was open with anguish, fear shining bright in his tearful eyes. 

Somehow, his eyes trained back on Link and she dissipated. Slowly, she floated back out into the ether, the remnants of her smoke left behind got tangled in Rhett’s lungs. She was gone, but he was  _ still  _ furious, and his rage had cooled and then melted back into something even uglier.

“You don’t get to sit out here and cry about this! It happened to me, it didn’t happen to you!” Rhett was shouting out of nowhere, saying words that he didn’t even think about before he spat them. 

Link bristled at that, sat back up a bit. “I was there. I saw  _ everything. _ ” 

Though Link’s voice laden with the clipped choke of tears, it was uncharacteristically calm and that just made Rhett’s blood boil even more. 

“This isn’t your tragedy, Link! It’s mine!” He was still shouting, he knew a vein in his neck was pulsing. 

“I  _ saved  _ you, Rhett. I can’t get those images out of my head, either!” His voice was still quiet, his gaze was pointed down. Rhett knew Link would whither beneath his anger. 

“I never fucking  _ asked  _ you to save me!” Rhett said, words becoming choked. His voice echoed around the room, almost made the broken glass still piled on the floor tinkle delicately. 

Silence stretched, heavy over them and humidly oppressive. Rhett deflated just slightly. He was exhausted, he felt almost dizzy from the exertion of being so upset. 

Link’s shoulders shook in front of him, and for a moment Rhett thought maybe he was crying once again. But before Rhett could say anything, Link was looking up at him. His face held a sardonic smile, somehow sour around the edges. His eyes were still glazed over as he looked up at Rhett and nodded, the motion somewhere between compulsory and sarcastic. 

He sniffled another sad laugh before speaking. “You know why I did it, Rhett? Because I don’t know how to live without you. I did it because I’m in love with you.” 

  
  


Rhett’s world titled, tumbled, careened into something that he never thought it would be. He had to be dreaming still, now. He was somehow still trapped and chained to a wall in that dingy, disgusting room. His mind was supplying him with things he only wanted to hear in what were no doubt his final moments. 

But, the scenery didn’t shift and Rhett could feel the ground beneath his feet, could still see Link looking up at him with a watery smile. This and everything leading up to it were much too real. Rhett didn’t know how to respond, but he felt his mouth hanging open, felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He could do nothing but stare at Link. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how to put his thoughts into words now, when just moments ago his tongue ran free. 

They sat a few more moments in silence, before Link nodded to himself once more and stood up. Rhett didn’t move, though Link looked like he expected Rhett to flinch away. 

“I’m just gonna ...ah, wash my face.” Link mumbled when he passed Rhett. He hastily made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a sharp slap. Rhett didn’t move until he heard the water running. 

Numb, he walked back to their bedroom. He was thankful that Link had left him with the escape of their room because he felt dizzy now, like the meds he had taken hadn’t fully worn off quite yet. The feeling dragged at the edges of his eyelids. As much as he wanted to examine and think about what had just happened, he knew his only option at the moment was sleep. 

He collapsed into the comfort of his bed and was out cold almost before his head hit the pillow. 

*

Rhett woke up, heart hammering. He clutched a hand to his chest and worked to school his breathing. He didn’t even  _ remember  _ the dream he’d been having. He felt cold, clammy, like he wanted to rub his hands against his arms to keep warm. It was exhausting to keep waking up like this, confused and drug-laden and  _ sore.  _

Rhett laid still, staring up at the same ceiling he’d been looking at for almost a year now. His eyes felt dry, like they had been open for hours despite having just woken up. His entire body hurt. He had noticed a few bright shots of pain here and there since he had been home, but now that he was still and quiet he couldn’t shake the ache that resided deep in his body. He’d heard people say they felt like they’d been hit by a truck, but now he truly understood the feeling. 

He felt crushed, like even the smallest bit of movement would send him headfirst into the throes of agony. The shining shattered pain seemed to radiate out from the harsh new edge of his left arm, almost took his breath away. He needed meds, and he knew it. He wanted to take his fucking pills and go back to sleep for the next six hours. Maybe when he woke up next, he would be able to lay in comfortable silence for a few moments longer.

Rhett wished he had that privilege just now. He certainly had a lot to think about. Link’s words washed over him again, and the even echoes felt like he was hearing it for the first time. Rhett honestly couldn’t be sure he hadn’t dreamt everything up. He wouldn’t put it past his addled mind - hell, no one would blame him if this was what finally pushed him over the edge of madness. But something inside Rhett insisted he wasn’t making this up, and he had no idea how to deal with it. 

Yes, this was what he had wanted since they were young, but a small part of him was still convinced it was out of pity, obligation - the ugliest words Rhett could think of. He turned his head to stare into Link’s empty bed, tried to burn holes in the bedsheets with his gaze.

Rhett knew he wasn’t going to be able to sort this out in such close proximity to Link. He knew he needed to get away for a moment, take a step back to breathe his own air and get his head back on straight. He also knew that meant facing something he had been trying to ignore. He had to call home. He needed his mom. 


	16. I Knew

Link let the water run, and stared at himself in the mirror. His chin and neck were dark with stubble, almost as dark as the smears on the skin beneath his eyes. His hands were braced on either side of the basin of the sink, thumbs hooking in. His arms trembled with sobs he didn’t want to let fall. He had no reason to be crying. 

That was a lie. 

He had  _ every  _ reason to be crying. Regardless of what Rhett said to him, he knew what he had seen. He was going through the same thing, even if Rhett had more to process than him. Now, on top of  _ everything  _ else, he had to deal with the fact that he had been  _ much more  _ honest with Rhett than he had been meaning to. 

His words were water, rushing from between his lips just like the faucet rushing before him. He hadn’t been able to turn his words off, they felt so good coming out. It felt as though he had finally spoken it into being, put it into the universe. It was better this way than holding onto it and harboring it any longer than he already had. He felt so bare, so stripped clean of any apprehension. 

Rhett lost his fucking  _ arm,  _ why not throw in an absurd confession into the mix? It made no sense, and that was how Link seemed to operate best. 

He heard the door to their bedroom shut and then turned the faucet off with a squeak. He looked into his own eyes in the mirror for a few more moments, trying to somehow see how things would end up within them. Everything felt out of control and unknown, and it made Link want to scream. He was trying to keep himself in check for Rhett, doing all that he could to be the  _ comfort  _ that he knew Rhett so desperately needed - and that he so desperately needed to give to Rhett. 

Every time he felt Rhett beneath his fingertips, everytime their hands brushed when he passed Rhett his meds, Link was almost surprised to feel warm flesh. It was as if he expected Rhett to disappear into thin air, for the past week to have been some kind of delusional dream. But Rhett’s presence remained, persisted, refused to fade, and Link was thankful for that. 

But, he had noticed an absence since Rhett had awoken that day in the hospital. Thinking on it now sent Link’s heart up into his throat. He had to blink quickly to dispel the memory. The pain that had settled into the scar on his left hand had gone. He almost hadn’t noticed it at first, hadn’t had the time to think about it. But instead of the steady leading sting, what he would have  _ sworn  _ had led him to find Rhett in the first place, there was nothing but emptiness. Only the echo of a sensation remained enmeshed with the scar, small but insistent, like the memory an itch that couldn’t be scratched. 

Link found himself looking at the scar before he closed the fingers on his hand slowly. He closed his eyes and took one final deep breath before he left the bathroom. He knew Rhett had gone into their room a few minutes ago, and he hadn’t heard him come back out. If Link knew Rhett at all, he was sure he had fallen face down onto his mattress in a drug-enhanced sleep. 

The living room was empty and the bedroom door was still closed, just like Link had figured they would be. Link curled up on the couch, knees to chest and tucked up in a corner. He huddled there, taking up the smallest amount of space he could. He sat, eyelids heavy and almost closed. There was nothing else he could do right now, he wanted to sleep but he didn’t let himself. Rhett could wake and need him, he had to be sure he was there for anything. He couldn’t let anything happen again…

He also never wanted to shut his eyes again, because every time he did all he could see was the hallway stretched out in front of him while he tried to drag Rhett down it. 

He never made the conscious decision to sleep, but sleep he did. 

_ Link rode his bike along a dirt and gravel road. It twisted and curved in unexpected places, but Link never faltered. He knew it well. Gravestones flew by beside him, a shiny gray blur in the sun. Link didn’t need to concern himself with these stones, the one where he needed to be was in the center of the cemetery. He was running late, he didn’t have a watch on but he knew he was. Rhett was probably already there, kicking a rock back and forth in boredom waiting.  _

_ Link’s teeth clattered together as the gravel became thicker, almost chattering with his speed. He was almost there, and his knees burnt with how quickly he was pushing the pedals. He was going so fast, but making almost no progress at all. The stone he was heading toward remained obscured in the distance while more and more nondescript headstones blurred past. He was losing steam, quickly.  _

_ He stopped, skidding his bike to a halt. He just needed to catch his breath for a moment. Rhett would understand. He placed his hands on his knees and tried to heave in a deep breath, but it wasn’t working. He felt dizzy and confused, and when he looked up he was face to face with a headstone.  _

_ It was the stone he had been trying to reach, but it looked different now.  _

_ This time, the name that was on the stone was intimately familiar.  _

_ Rhett McLaughlin; 1977 -  _

  
  


It was jarring how quickly Link woke up. 

Something loud clattered to the floor in the bathroom and Rhett’s cursing followed after it. Link barely had time to digest the dream he’d just had before he was up and off the couch. His toes were asleep, but it didn’t matter. He was outside the bathroom door in seconds, knocking lightly. Rhett hadn’t latched the door all the way, and Link glimpsed him crouched on the floor trying to gather several things in one hand. 

“Oh,  _ fuck! _ ” Rhett cursed again, but it was quiet and deflated. 

“Brother?” Link ventured as he slid the door open a bit more to peer in. Rhett looked up, but didn’t stop him from coming in. Link looked down at him before lowering himself to the floor as well. Rhett stared down at the roll of gauze and bottle of antiseptic he had knocked to the floor. “Will you let me help you?” 

Rhett was silent for a moment, he still didn’t look up. Link’s heart thudded in trepidation. Was this Rhett rejecting him? Was this Rhett telling him that he had finally crossed the weird line they had been dancing on for years? Was this Rhett shrinking back from him because nothing would ever be the same again? 

Rhett met Link’s eyes, his pupils bright as glass. He nodded and looked away before he rolled back on his heels and leaned up against the lip of the bathtub. Link scrambled to pick up the fallen items, hands shaking and chest feeling like all the air had rushed out of it. Link gathered everything and crawled over to the head of the tub, situating himself next to Rhett. He took a towel hanging near the sink on the way and laid it out in front of him, placing everything on top of it. 

Gauze, a stack of bandages, a small pair of scissors, tissues and cotton swabs. The medicated wash the doctors had given Rhett sloshed in the bottle when he set it down next to the tube of antibiotic ointment still in its cardboard box. Link had watched the nurses do this closely every day the past few weeks, but he was hesitant to do it himself. Anxiety crept in when he thought of how Rhett’s warm flesh was going to feel beneath his fingers. Rhett was pointedly looking in the opposite direction of Link, and he was thankful. He knew if Rhett was looking at him, he would have noticed the heat that had risen to his cheeks. Link couldn’t explain it. 

Link felt immediately selfish. Rhett wasn’t looking away to avoid eye contact with  _ him,  _ he didn’t want to look at his arm while Link peeled off the bandages. It had nothing to do with him. 

“Stop me if you need me to.” Link mumbled, and Rhett nodded curtly once. 

Link’s hands were somehow much steadier than he felt they should have been. He gripped the edge of the white gauze wrapped around Rhett’s arm. He lifted the stuck edge and unwound. The tight criss cross pattern unraveled and Rhett groaned at the loosening compression. Link saw his other hand clench into a fist, his legs bending up and heels dragging into the floor. But Rhett didn’t stop him, so he kept going. The outer layer of wrapping was elastic and held in the packed gauze flush against his wound. Link placed the soiled bits of fluffy gauze into the tub behind them, vowing to clean up once they were done. Rhett’s arm was red and raw. It looked angry, horribly painful, but it was clean and looked to be healing well. Link rinsed Rhett’s stump with the solution that smelled like alcohol and other strong chemicals. It stung Link’s nostrils and Rhett hissed when it touched his skin. Link rinsed diligently, taking care to clean each bit of mottled skin. 

Link focused his breathing, worked with every ounce of his strength to keep from letting the caked blood get to him. He couldn’t let himself pass out on the floor in front of Rhett, not when he was trying to show he could take care of him. Rhett’s wound really was ghastly though, there hadn’t been much the doctors could do to make it look any better than it already did. Rhett gasped each time the cloth came back in contact, no matter how gentle Link tried to be. His hands remained remarkably steady for how hard his pulse was pounding. 

Link found himself wondering what the scar would look like when it healed, what it could possibly feel like under his gentle and curious touch. He swallowed and pressed a dry towel to Rhett’s arm and held it there. He held fast with both hands keeping Rhett’s arm steady. Rhett turned his head back toward Link and caught his gaze. Link didn’t look away, held his stare firmly. There was something shining in Rhett’s eyes, foreign yet terribly familiar. Rhett didn’t dare look down from Link’s eyes, didn’t want to see the withered skin on his arm, marked still with the pattern the gauze had left behind. 

Link stared with bated breath. He was so close to Rhett, and this was undoubtedly the most intimate moment they could be sharing. Link always knew he would do anything for Rhett, but this moment placed so nicely on top of everything that has happened in the past few weeks firmly backed up that knowledge. He wanted to be everything for Rhett. He wanted to take this all away from him, he wanted to switch places and have to suffer this himself if it meant Rhett was whole again, if it meant Rhett would  _ smile  _ at him the way he used to. 

Link wished he could squash out his feelings for just this one  _ second -  _ he’d already told his not-very-secret secret, and he didn’t need to keep dwelling on it. Especially not when Rhett needed him like he did. It didn’t matter right now if Rhett returned his feelings or not, that wouldn’t change the way Link was going to look after him. 

Link moved the cloth, finally throwing it into the pile he’d been discarding into in the tub. Rhett relaxed minutely, crinkling his eyes shut and groaning. 

“I’m sorry, bo.” Link whispered before he could stop himself, endearment slipping past before he could catch it. 

“Why?” Rhett’s voice was a gasp and he sat up, wincing only slightly. 

It was Link’s first instinct to shrink back from Rhett, memory of the way he’d shouted still close. But, Link stayed firm, watched Rhett as he tried to get comfortable again. Link leaned forward to help Rhett get resituated, supporting his good shoulder and guiding his back flush against the tub again. 

“ _ I’m _ sorry. For yellin’ at ya.” Rhett muttered. 

Link just nodded, not sure what to say to fill the silence. He wanted to apologize too,  _ again _ , but before he could open his mouth Rhett was reaching up. He grasped Link’s bicep with a surprising amount of strength, but still not as strong as Link had felt his grip in the past. He didn’t move, stared down at Rhett from the vantage point he was captured in. He was always  _ looking down  _ at Rhett now and the feeling never stopped being disorienting and confusing. His brows knit together as Rhett held fast, staring up into his eyes with the same strange but shining emotion. There was a fire behind them, and he was searching Link’s eyes for the water to burn it out. But Link’s eyes held only gasoline. 

Something electric crackled between their gazes and suddenly both of them forgot about the task at hand, the  _ hand  _ missing that had put them in this situation to begin with. The moment stretched, Rhett’s nostrils flared minutely and Link for a horribly hot moment thought Rhett was going to surge forward and plant lips against lips. Goosebumps broke on his forearms and traveled to where Rhett still held him. He didn’t dare break Rhett’s gaze. It wasn’t going to be the first time they’d kissed (if they did, Link thought), but this time neither of them were drunk. Rhett might be dazed out by his medication, but Link knew it wasn’t that. He almost couldn’t breathe. Rhett’s chin came up just a touch and Link felt the fire begin to run through his veins. 

Rhett looked away, though, turned his head and let go of Link’s arm. Link almost scrambled to get off of him, wanting to give him all the space he needed. He fell back on his haunches and Rhett again kept his gaze pointedly away, almost seeming to stare down at the hand that had just been squeezing so desperately hard into Link. Ice crashed over him and Link almost wanted to cry. 

He didn’t let himself feel the emotions that swelled. He would sort through them later, once Rhett’s arm was bandaged back up properly. For now, he took a cotton swab and diligently painted the ointment onto Rhett’s scar tissue. Rhett made little sounds, between moans and gasps, each time Link touched his skin. Link was eager to get Rhett covered back up safely, didn’t want to cause him any more pain than he needed to. 

The silence continued to fall heavy around them, Link dutifully packed squares of gauze gently against Rhett’s wound. He heard Rhett breathe a sigh of relief when he began to wrap his stump back up tightly. The pressure must do wonders. Link tried his best to mimic the same crosshatched pattern he had undone when he began. This gauze was fresh and it wrapped nicely, stayed put where Link placed it. He tucked the final bit under the rest and leaned back to admire the job he’d done. 

Link honestly thought it looked really good. He couldn’t help but be proud that he was useful at caring for Rhett when he needed it the most. 

Rhett sighed and didn’t stand up when Link did. Link turned to look ( _ down, again,)  _ to see if Rhett needed help standing. Rhett was looking forward now, staring intently at Link’s feet. 

“Thanks.” He said, tersely. “Um. I, -” he paused, it was an unnatural break in speech and he cleared his throat. “I called Mama Di.” 

“Oh.” Link said softly. The pause Rhett took let him fill the silence with his own ideas. He felt like he both knew exactly why Rhett had called her, and also had no idea. It terrified him. Everything was new and different and hot, almost burning, to the touch between the two of them. 

“I...I gotta go home, man.” Rhett whispered. Once he started talking, the words tumbled forth. It was the most Rhett had spoken, to Link or at all, in days. “I just ...I gotta go get my head back on. I gotta sort this out. It’s not because of...I just need my mom, man.” 

Rhett’s voice hitched up on his last sentence, throat tight with unshed tears, quelled emotion. 

Link nodded, trying to keep his face impassive as he turned toward the sink to wash his hands. 

“I know.” he said, letting no emotions seep into his voice. This was Rhett’s decision, and if what he needed was to go home, Link couldn’t fault him there. 

He’d meant it; he did know. 

*

Rhett had left the bathroom shortly after that, and Link had assumed he’d gone to bed. Link knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, so instead he busied himself with cleaning up the mess they’d left behind. He grabbed the trash can they kept under the sink and brought it over to the tub. He reached in and plucked the old gauze squares from the porcelain and dropped them into it. The bag crinkled under the weight and Link couldn’t help but see the dried blood and discolored stains on the bits that had been flush against Rhett’s skin. Link shivered, feeling suddenly lightheaded down to his very core. He couldn’t believe he had kept it together so well while bandaging Rhett up, because now seeing the slight bloodstain the discarded bandages had left in the sink left him reeling with dizziness. He hung on to the side of the tub for just one moment, biting back the sudden gag that came with his wooziness. He hated blood. He hated seeing it, smelling it, being around it. It made him feel like he was floating four feet above himself, suspended and waiting to fall. 

He pressed on, rinsing the stain from the tub, spraying disinfectant onto the surfaces he had used. It was difficult, but he would do it if Rhett needed him to. 


	17. My Destiny

Rhett left early the next morning, and Link helped him carry a duffel bag full of clothes and a smaller bag full of medications and supplies for his arm down the stairs. Rhett hadn’t said much else to him this morning or the night before. Link accepted the silence and crept around their apartment, helping Rhett pack. 

Rhett’s father was there, outside in his pick up. He stood outside of it, and Link could tell he had come without Rhett’s mom. She was probably at home, preparing. Link could almost imagine her vacuuming, baking a batch of cookies for Rhett with tears in her eyes. He didn’t want to think about the moment that she had to put Rhett together with that horrible news story. 

Rhett’s gaze lingered on Link for just a beat too long before he reached out to open the passenger side door. He stood behind it, but hesitated before he got in. “I’ll see you soon, brother.” 

Rhett’s door snapped shut as his dad closed it. Link naturally turned to face him, and his eyes seemed older than they ever had before. Sadness glowed within him. He placed a gruff hand on Link’s shoulder and Link fought to not shift under the weight. 

“You should call your momma too, son.” He said as he walked around the front of his truck to get in. 

“Yessir.” Link whispered, but he was sure his voice got lost in the dust that the wheels kicked up as Rhett grew further away. He didn’t need for Rhett’s dad to hear him. It was a lie, anyway. 

He made his way back upstairs, numb. Opening the door ached almost as much as it had when Rhett was missing. At least now, he knew Rhett was safe. Going home would do him some good. Link thought it would do  _ him  _ some good as well, but he hadn’t been able to bear asking to hitch a ride. Rhett needed his space...

It hurt Link to not be following Rhett like he always did. It felt like something had been torn from his chest now that he was left alone again, and it was hard to swallow. He felt selfish for missing Rhett’s presence so desperately already. Obviously, Rhett had thought some time apart would be good for them. Or, maybe just for  _ him.  _ Link didn’t want to allow in the ugly feeling that Rhett wasn’t thinking about  _ his  _ feelings while he had been wrapped so tightly up in Rhett’s. He hadn’t asked that of Link; Link knew he did that of his own choosing. 

He didn’t have much of an option, not when it really came down to it. He had to do his best to take care of Rhett, his own feelings and emotions be damned. He’d made a mistake letting himself slip last night, and now here he was - alone. Alone with nothing but an empty apartment and all of his emotions. Link tried to take a deep breath before his chest closed around itself again. 

Panic rushed in, back with a vengeance after stuffing it so far down and away. Link hadn’t let himself linger in that  _ hallway  _ since he’d left it. He refused to let it cross his mind, instead preoccupying him with Rhett’s needs. But with Rhett out of his care, no longer something to focus on in that way, it felt like he was back there. It felt like  _ Rhett  _ was back there - gone again without a trace -. 

Exhaustion somehow blunted his anxiety enough to draw him to his bed. He hadn’t slept in it in days, hadn’t really slept anywhere. His sheets looked soft and inviting and they smelled like home. Something felt  _ wrong  _ in laying down like this, in seeking comfort by disappearing from the problem itself, coping instead with dreams. 

If only Link’s dreams had allowed him to  _ cope.  _

In his dreams, the halway stretched before him, dark and ever changing. It was expansive and empty and never ending. Link tried to push his way into the blackness. The curves of the hallway changed direction every few steps, Link had to drag his fingers along the walls to keep his path. The walls were wet, almost slimy under his touch. He felt hands grasping at his ankles as he walked, each letting go before it could be pulled free. Link was sure if he could see, it would just be  _ Rhett’s arm  _ reaching out to him. He knew Rhett was at the end of the maze, knew he could get there if he just kept going, but the hall never ended. He stopped to catch his breath, one hand leaning against something very sharp on the wall. 

It brought him back to the real world, the pain hanging on once more. Link knew immediately what it was, the stinging ache was familiar. It was his scar, burning like it had before he had found Rhett. It hurt differently now, insistent and sharp. Link felt like it was begging to be sliced back open. Link didn’t understand the thought, and he shuddered away from the image of blood. Link slid further down into his bed, muffling his face with his thin blanket. He hadn’t felt anything but a dry and dull emptiness in his hand since he realized that Rhett didn’t have his scar. It felt like the connection had been cut off, and Link would have been willing to cut into himself again to bring it back. 

He wondered if Rhett felt the same. 

His palm throbbed even harder as the thought passed. 

He couldn’t be away from Rhett like this. He needed to be next to him, needed to at least be nearby enough to ensure that Rhett never got dragged back down that hallway. Link’s leg shook with anxiety. He wanted more than anything to fall back into a dark sleep, to be able to wake refreshed and new. He longed to be able to think about this situation from a detached perspective. He wanted to sort through his thoughts. 

He usually didn’t have this much of an issue figuring out his emotions. 

But, he usually had Rhett to bounce his crazy thoughts and ideas off of. 

He felt impossibly cold, bundled as he was in his bed. He missed Rhett. He wanted to go home. 

Briefly, he entertained the thought of climbing into Rhett’s bed but he remembered the last time he had holed up there much too vividly. His palm pulsed again. It  _ hurt.  _ It felt like there was a tiny fishing hook lodged in it, pulling and tugging at Link. It might have been against his better judgement, but he allowed the sensation to drag him out of bed and to the living room. The last time he had felt this, Rhett had needed him more than he ever had before. Link couldn’t stand ignoring the thought of Rhett being in need. 

It felt like he was being guided by Rhett’s hand in his, anyway, holding on crushing tight and making sure he followed. 

Link’s gaze fell on the dish of keys by what he could have sworn was a flash of movement. There was nothing there. Nothing except keys - both sets, his and Rhett’s. The key to Rhett’s truck was sitting there, gleaming in front of him. He could easily hop behind the wheel and drive the forty five minutes it would take to get Buies Creek. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Link walked back into the bedroom and threw a few changes of clothes into a bag. He didn’t think he’d need all that much. He still had a dresser full of tshirts in his parent’s house anyway. It was almost dark outside as it was, so he grabbed a pillow off of his bed, intending to sleep in Rhett’s truck so he didn’t give his mom and Jimmy a heart attack. He’d go there in the morning, but he knew he couldn’t stay in this apartment alone for even one night. 

He would drive and drive and figure out where he was going and what he was doing when he got there.

Link threw his bag and pillow into the passenger seat and climbed in. He started the truck, feeling a little self conscious and guilty. He almost felt like he was stealing Rhett’s truck and lighting out into the night. Which...was sort of exactly what he was doing. But Link didn’t let himself think that. Rhett, deep down, would understand. He backed out of the parking space and set out onto the highway. 

It wasn’t a long drive by any means, but Link started to zone out minutes into his drive. The sun was setting behind him, and he was driving into darkness. It was too early to turn the headlights on, but he did it anyway. He wanted to see everything he was driving towards. Even though he knew the way well, a tiny piece of his mind kept filling in the gaps with curving hallways. 

Trees on the side of the road blurred into blackness, encased Link and the truck. It was getting harder and harder to see. Things like branches, long wisps of thick smoke were reaching out to him from the sides as they closed in. Link tried to focus on the lit up part of the road, the fiery sunset in his rear view mirror. It was hard to focus on the light when there was so much in the dark that he could not see. He almost felt hands closing around his neck, touching him at every angle. Link knew that if he looked down, they would be Rhett’s arms, disembodied and left behind. 

Link shook his head, hard, and refocused on driving. He would worry about that when it actually got dark, when he was done driving and sitting alone in the dark…

  
  


Link reached forward and smashed on the radio. Link expected the static of the radio, but instead it was a slightly fuzzy guitar riff. It twanged and swung, forth and back. 

_ Today, I started loving you again… _

Merle’s tortured rasp came crackling through Rhett’s speakers. Link gasped as the pain in his palm surfaced again, urging him to go faster. 

_ I’m right back where I’ve really always been… _

And wasn’t that the truth? Link had always been in love with Rhett. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known that, someplace deep inside and hidden away. His hand tugged again, and Link pressed down a little harder on the gas. The music rocked slowly, the sounds curling around in his head. He knew he’d loved Rhett, yes. But the soulmate part came as a realization that he hadn’t had much time to reflect on. 

He could almost feel the burn of whiskey against his lips from when the revelation had originally taken root. 

Link licked his lips and swallowed it back, just tepid saliva without the burn of any alcohol. His eyes stung and he wanted more than anything to be back in his bed. Or, more accurately, he wanted to be folded up with Rhett in his bed. He didn’t know sleep without feeling a part of Rhett pressed up against him. He couldn’t dwell on the terrifying thought of what would happen when Rhett rejected his advance. How would he ever sleep at night again? 

Link pressed on, focusing very hard on keeping his mind steady and blank. He knew it was all going to explode and tumble out like an overstuffed closet eventually, but he had a firm grip for now. Link popped the cassette player door open and switched it back to the radio. He couldn’t handle listening to Merle without Rhett right beside him. Instead, the comforting drone of a vaguely anonymous and yet very familiar radio voice kept him company. 

The sights around him started to get increasingly domestic as he grew closer to his hometown. He started recognizing fields and buildings and taking turns without having to think about them at all. His heartbeat started to climb as he passed streets he used to walk down every day. He hadn’t been home since the start of the semester, and it seemed even longer now after all that had happened. 

Link had changed now, more than he even recognized. 

Tears wanted to spill, his chest felt heavy and choked with them. It was sudden, a swell of claustrophobic emotion that he almost couldn’t swallow back down. The pin prick of pain in his scar was what kept him going, knowing he needed to as close to Rhett as he  _ could  _ be. He took the quickest way he could think of to get to Rhett’s house. It was almost automatic, he knew all of Harnett County like the back of his hand. 

Link cringed inwardly at the idiom his mind threw at him. 

Soon, Link found himself turning off the headlights and creeping down Rhett’s street as slow as he could manage. He stopped a few houses down, but had to get a bit closer when his hand didn’t cease the itching burn it had taken on. He turned the truck off when he was settled within the shadow of a large tree. Link could see the window he knew to be Rhett’s bedroom. He’d climbed in and out of it enough times in their childhood. He almost wanted to do it again right now, wouldn’t hesitate to do so if Rhett asked. 

The window was dark, the lights were off inside. Downstairs, a few lights still shone. Link couldn’t tell where Rhett was inside, he couldn’t see any movement within. The ache in his hand faded, blunted just enough that he could barely feel it anymore. Link heaved a sigh of relief, it was such an uncomfortable sensation. He was close enough to Rhett now that he could relax, just a bit. He would be able to see if he left, if something bad were to happen.

_ again -  _

Link sat, waited and watched nothing happen. His vision was starting dull around the edges, eyelids beginning to droop, when the light in Rhett’s bedroom flicked on. In an instant, Link was wide awake. He could feel muscles in his face twitch with the strain of how closely he was watching. He was waiting to see Rhett’s shadow cross the room so he knew he was safely in bed. 

It was only a few moments before he passed by the window. Link expected for the lights to turn off soon after, but they didn’t. Instead, Rhett’s shadow passed through the square of light once more. Link figured he forgot something, but then he was back, and forth once more. Link could tell he was pacing now, irregularly moving back and forth. Link’s heartbeat picked up. Something was wrong. This wasn’t something Rhett would be doing if nothing was wrong. 

Link didn’t even stop to think about it before he was opening the door and stepping out of Rhett’s truck. He shut it as quietly as he could and crept along the lawn. Link pressed himself against the cold siding of the house beneath Rhett’s window. He had no idea what he thought he was going to achieve by being here, but he couldn’t bear being so far away. Link hugged his knees to his chest and folded in on himself against the chill in the air. He listened to the whirring hum of crickets and other bugs in the dark. It sounded like home. 

The gentle sound of wood scraping against wood broke the monotonous chorus of nature. Link looked up to see Rhett hanging from the window above. Link’s heart leapt to his throat for a moment - Rhett wouldn’t  _ jump  _ would he? Link bit his fist, pressed even further against the house. He didn’t know if Rhett would be able to see him, or why he was so concerned over that. Rhett was still, his head and shoulders still poking out against the stars. The top of Link’s head rested against the house as he continued to stare. 

“Link?” Rhett’s voice floated down to him. It was quiet, a loudly whispered question. It took Link three full inhales and exhales before he could answer.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Why are you down there?” 

Link didn’t have a good answer. “Why did you know I was down here?” 

It was Rhett’s turn to be silent for a few beats. Link didn’t know what he expected Rhett to say in response, but it wasn’t Rhett’s soft plea. “Come up? Please, come up.” 

Link scrambled to stand from his curled up position. He was sure his heels left marks in the soft dirt. He stood up and faced the house, he felt small as he tried to remember where the best foothold was to start. He reached up to situate his fingers in the lip of the window sill above him, hoping he was going to have enough arm strength to hoist himself up. His toe was searching for some kind of purchase, some part of the siding that had cracked or fallen away, when Rhett laughed from above him. 

Link looked up, and Rhett laughed again. It was a watery thing, rough and almost barked, but it was genuine. Link stepped away to look up at him, confused. He shielded his eyes with his hand from the light that streamed from Rhett’s window. All he could see was a black outline in the shape of Rhett. 

“Brother, just come in the door. You’ve got my keys.”

Link stepped back and realized Rhett’s keys were stuffed in his jacket pocket. A huffing guffaw of a laugh condensated in the night air. It felt good to laugh, even if it sounded ugly and broken, even at his own expense. It felt even better to be sharing this laugh with Rhett. It felt  _ normal.  _

Almost as normal as it felt to unlock the front door of Rhett’s house and walk up the stairs. His parents were sleeping, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they were awake. Link walked up the stairs, avoiding the parts he knew squeaked out of habit. Rhett was opening his bedroom door when Link got to the top and Link felt like he was running down the hallway to meet him. 

They’d only been apart of hours, but somehow it felt like decades. Link stopped in front of the doorway, waited for Rhett to move to let him in. Rhett stood looking at Link for a moment too long before he walked back inside, letting Link follow. Link did, shutting the door gently behind him. Somehow, Link was surprised to see Rhett’s room looked like it always had, posters and clutter in all the same places. Rhett sat on the bed and looked seekingly at Link, one hand touching the bed. His other arm was tucked up against his side, bandage looking fresh and noticeably clean. Rhett shifted down the bed, giving Link more space to sit on his right side. It felt weird and foreign to be on this side. Up until now, he had always sat on the left. 

Link didn’t have long to reflect on his train of thought because Rhett was reaching out and grabbing his hand. Link almost jumped, but instead turned his hand to cling to Rhett’s tightly. Link felt like he was back in high school, heart racing and nervous around his crush -

_ (Rhett, it had always been Rhett)  _

“I didn’t leave ‘cause of you.” Rhett mumbled, tightening his grip. “I left ‘cause of me. I’m not...all here anymore, brother. You don’t hafta pretend you wanna take care of me, or - like I’m not a burden.”

“Rhett.” Link breathed, almost admonished him. He held tightly to Rhett’s hand as he spoke, but kept his gaze carefully forward. So did Rhett. 

“I’m a mess, bo. I’m...not whole. I’m not all me, anymore. This ain’t enough for you.” 

Link was silent for a moment, waited for Rhett to keep speaking. He didn’t, and Link could feel his frame starting to shake. 

“Of course you’re all you. That’s...all I could ever want, Rhett.” Link broke and turned to look at Rhett. Rhett stayed staring ahead. “You’re not a  _ burden _ !” 

“How can you say that? I’m falling apart. Haven’t you seen me?” Rhett asked, turning to look at Link with tears building in the corners of his eyes. He lifted his left arm, making Link look at where it ended abruptly. Link could do nothing but nod, tears forming in his own eyes. 

“Yes. And I still am in love with every single inch of you.” Link’s voice trembled, but Rhett broke first. 

Teardrops spilled over the edges, carving down his face. Rhett fling himself onto Link, and Link caught him only barely. Rhett let go of his hand and wrapped his arm around Link’s back instead. Link accepted it, reached out with both of his hands to steady Rhett. He wasn’t shaking anymore, didn’t seem to be crying any longer. He just clung to Link, and Link allowed him to take what he needed. He would give Rhett everything if he was given the chance. 

“You know I’ve been in love with you for years.” Rhett whispered eventually, and Link nodded into the back of Rhett’s head. He held him close, took a deep breath and filled up on him. He supposed that somewhere, deep down, he had known.

Link kept Rhett in his embrace, didn’t dare to move before Rhett asked him to. He never wanted to let go of Rhett again. He wanted to hold on and stay as close as he could for the rest of the time they had left to spend together. But, eventually Rhett dragged them both down to lay their heads against his pillow. Link lay and let Rhett squirm to pillow his head against his shoulder. 

“Can I tell you something?” 

Link swore he could taste his heart in the back of his throat, metallic pumping blood. “Anything.” 

“I knew you were outside because I could feel you there. I felt you in the scar on my hand. The hand I don’t have anymore.” 

“I’ve been feeling you in mine.” Link admitted, quietly. 

Rhett hummed and snuggled further into Link. He seemed to go boneless, completely spent. “WIll you bring me to the water tomorrow?” 

Rhett’s words slurred out in a sleepy sentence. 

“Of course, bo.” Link couldn’t say no. 


	18. To Be Together

Link woke up, pleasantly warm and slightly cramped. He tried to wiggle a bit, bring some feeling back into his limbs, but he found Rhett clinging tightly to him. Link smiled. Rhett’s hair was a mess, and he looked warm and inviting in his sleepy state. Link watched the sun rise for a bit longer before really trying to move again. He wasn’t sure if Rhett remembered asking him to bring him to the river, but if he wanted to go they would need to leave soon. 

“G’mornin’, bo.” Link mumbled into Rhett’s shoulder. It felt affectionate, warmer than the sunshine streaming in through the window. 

Rhett looked up with a soft smile that morphed abruptly into a sharp grimace when Rhett tried to move. 

“Oh-” Link started, but Rhett held his hand up. He grit his teeth and looked the other way while he sat up fully. He sat and breathed through his nose for a few breaths. Link had sat up as well, holding one hand gently flush to the small of his back. 

“I’m good.” He said after a moment. “Meds are downstairs. We should get goin’ anyway.” 

Link took Rhett’s word for it. He didn’t want to baby him, make him feel ashamed or incapable. He somehow trusted now that Rhett would tell him if it was too much. Rhett stood up and Link followed. He took a moment to peek at himself in the mirror on the back of Rhett’s door, straightening his bunched-up slept-in t shirt. He couldn’t count how many times he had looked in that mirror from the floor, watched Rhett sleep peacefully above him in the moonlight. 

Rhett opened the door and shook Link from his thoughts. He followed Rhett down the hall, letting him go down the stairs first. He knew Rhett’s parents wouldn’t be upset to see him, but it still felt weird knowing he had  _ almost  _ climbed in the window instead of using the front door. He burned with embarrassment. Rhett clambered down the stairs, and Link slipped down behind him. 

“Mornin, ma.” Rhett said quietly, snatching a few bottles of meds off the counter. “Link’s here.” 

“Good morning.” Link mumbled, nodding his head at Rhett’s mom. She smiled, and it seemed a little tearful. Link could feel her emotion radiating in his chest. 

“It’s good to see you, Link.” She said, and sipped at her mug of coffee. Her voice was a little higher than he remembered. 

Link reached out to help Rhett with the bottle as he struggled to open it. Rhett huffed, but handed it to Link. 

“We’re goin’ to the river, ma.” Rhett said as he filled up a cup of water from the tap. Link gave Rhett the tablets, and stuck a few in his pocket for Rhett later, just in case. 

Rhett’s mom looked up, she almost looked like she was going to say no, but in the end she just nodded. “Just be careful, boys.” 

Rhett gestured for them to leave from the back door. As they were leaving the kitchen, something tugged in his hand and his looked over his shoulder. A pocket knife gleamed on the counter, achingly familiar. Link snatched it without a second thought and shoved it down in his back pocket. He could feel in his very soul that he needed to bring it, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Before Link really knew it, they were in Rhett’s truck on the road. Link drove, and Rhett fiddled with the radio. Link waited for him to close the tape deck and make that same song play, but he never did. Rhett settled on a station that was playing some kind of twangy static and leaned back in the passenger seat. He swung his long legs up, feet resting on the dash. It all still felt shockingly  _ normal.  _

“I missed you, brother.” Rhett said, the first words he’d said in thirty miles. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere again.” Link said, eyes glued to the road. He meant it, and he knew Rhett’s words held more meaning than he let on. 

They rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Every now and again, Rhett hummed along to snatches and riffs of the songs on the radio. It was quieter than they would normally be on a drive like this, but something was crackling energetically between them and keeping them hushed. 

Link pulled the truck over to the side of the road seemingly at random, but he knew exactly where they were. He killed the engine and took the keys from the ignition, waiting for Rhett to unbuckle and open his door. 

“You ready?” Link asked. His words felt heavy leaving his lips, like they more weight than just asking if he was ready to walk to the river. Rhett nodded and opened his door, stepping out into the sunlight. 

Link had expected he was going to lead the way, but Rhett slipped into the knee high grass at the edge of the ditch they parked in. Link followed, Link would  _ always  _ follow. They fought together through a bit of overgrowth, trying not to let their jeans snag on any thorned plants. Link found himself holding a branch to the side so Rhett could crouch beneath it before Link did so himself. 

Once he stood back up, the undergrowth broke into a clear shining river. Rocks and trees dotted the shores and there was a perfect path worn in, leading into the current. The water shone in the sunlight, glittering in little whirlpools and Rhett was already bending down to take his shoes off. He cuffed his pants and glanced back at Link before he walked straight to the water. Link kicked his shoes off as well, but hung back for just a moment. He watched Rhett take a few steps into the clear rushing water, watched him stand in it up to his ankles. 

Link hoped the water would help cleanse him of some of the nasty things that were hanging on to him. He finished rolling his jeans up his shins and walked in as well. His footsteps splashed and the water was cool. He almost wanted to bend down and drink a handful of it, he thought maybe it could restore something within him. He caught himself staring at Rhett again, outlined in the warm sunlight, face tilted up and eyes closed. He walked up next to him, water rushing over his ankles as he walked against the current. Link reached down and grasped Rhett’s hand. 

Rhett jumped in surprise, but held tight to Link’s hand. He turned from looking up at the cloudless sky to Link. He smiled, a soft and sweet thing. It was genuine, and Link wanted to melt inside of it. He wanted to stay here forever, there was something magical about this river for them. Something so beautiful and uniquely  _ theirs.  _ He’d felt it every time leading up to the day they’d sliced their palms, and every day after it had only grown. 

Rhett tugged on his hand and started to walk up the riverbed a bit more. Link followed, splashing water up the back of his legs and getting his jeans in order to keep up with Rhett’s longer strides. Link knew where Rhett was going, but he let him lead. It felt good to follow. Soon enough, they were standing before a large, flat rock in the center of a small waterfall. The rapids didn’t really start until further down, so there was a dry spot on the rock big enough for two people to sit with their toes just kissing the water. Rhett and Link had spent many hours there before, sharing everything from secrets to bottles of booze to cigarettes smuggled from their mothers once or twice. 

Rhett was climbing up and Link didn’t hesitate to do the same. When he sat, the pocket knife he’d all but forgotten about scraped against the face of the rock. Link reached back and plucked it from his pocket and fiddled with it lightly. The scar on his hand pulsed, but it felt certain and sure this time. Link knew what he was going to do. His hands almost started to shake with the thought of it - the image of fresh blood blooming up out of his old scar. 

“Link, is that…?” Rhett asked, eyes locked on the knife in Link’s hand. 

“Yeah.” Link answered Rhett’s trailed question. “I thought...maybe…” 

“I wanna be able to feel you again.” Rhett’s words came in a rush, almost breathless. “Please, can we?” 

Link nodded, and stopped moving the knife through his fingers. He flipped it open and stared down at his own palm. He didn’t want to do it, the thought of sticking a knife into his own flesh brought shivers down his spine. His neck started to sweat and he didn’t want to  _ back out  _ but he didn’t know if he could do it, he couldn’t find that spark of courage he must have had when he was younger. 

He wanted this though, oh how he wanted it. He wanted to be able to  _ feel _ Rhett again. He knew he couldn’t make Rhett whole again, but at least they could have this. His hands trembled in trepidation, he could only think about the feeling he would get in the base of his neck once his blood started to leak out - 

Rhett reached his hand out to steady Link’s. Link looked up, caught in Rhett’s solemn stare with his own wide eyes. “I’ll do yours if you do mine.” 

Link nodded, he knew he wasn’t going to do it for himself and Rhett was going to need help anyway. Link unfurled his hand and placed it in Rhett’s lap. He held still, let Rhett take the knife from his other hand and line it up to his scar. Link didn’t look down from Rhett’s face as the knife bit into his soft flesh. He grit his teeth, but it only stung a bit. His blood was warm, it pooled up and dripped down into the cup of his hand. 

He spent only a moment admiring the crimson with a detached ringing in his ears before Rhett was pressing the knife back into his hand. Link took it and it felt more comfortable in his hand now. Rhett spread his palm and Link took it in his bleeding hand gently. 

“I meant it when I said I would die for you.” He whispered before slicing into the creamy flesh of Rhett’s right hand. Rhett hissed for just a moment before his eyebrows relaxed, tension leaving his face. 

“I never want to be without you again.” Rhett answered. 

“I love you.” They both said at the same time.

Link grabbed Rhett’s hand and held it. Their blood ran and slicked between their palms, but neither of them let go. Their hands trembled between them, the same as all those years before, but somehow now different and new as well. This gesture wasn’t a handshake like it had been when they were young. This time, their hands were bound together as lovers, as soulmates, as  _ forever _ . They were taking back what the world had tried to pry from them. 

They still had worlds to work through, miles to go before either of them  _ healed  _ from their experiences. But now they had each other, they held tight as their fractured bond glowed and mended around them. Their heels rushed with cool water, the sun warm on their faces. Their hands stayed firmly clasped together, blood starting to drip between their interlocked fingers into the water.

Rhett turned to look at Link, and Link stared back. He reached out gently with his other hand, pressed it to the side of Rhett’s cheek. Rhett leaned into the touch, nuzzling and humming softly. When his eyes opened they were filled with big, glassy tears. Link moved his thumb to wipe one away, and Rhett laughed. More tears fell and Link couldn’t stop some of his own from falling. Rhett didn’t move his hand to reach for Link’s tears, he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t time yet. Instead, he leaned forward, pressed his lips against Link’s cheeks and lapped up his tears. Link let him for a moment, before he reached back up to guide his chin to his mouth. Rhett closed his lips over Link’s gently, almost feather light. It felt more sacred and surreal than anything else ever had. Link clutched to Rhett’s hand still, pressed between their bodies and into the rock. 

“I will always love you.” They didn’t let go until the blood stopped flowing, until the sun started to go down. 

They untangled from each other long enough to watch it set, knowing things were not ever going to be the same as they used to be. They knew this wasn’t going to fix everything, it was barely going to fix  _ anything,  _ but now they had a constant to fall back on. The foundation of their relationship was being built back up, reinforced and secured. They had each other to fall back on, and that was enough to give them the strength they would need to carry on. 

*   
*   
*

**Author's Note:**

> This whole dang fic is based off of Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon. You can't tell me this song isn't about amputation. You can't. 
> 
> Hit me on twitter, talk to me about this. I have other ideas for oneshots in this verse...so expect more from me. @spockingout_


End file.
